


Of Myth and Man

by NewFallenLeaves, SassKatt



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Buckle up kids, Canon-Typical Violence, Cryptid Boyfriends, Cryptids, Genji Shimada is a Little Shit, M/M, Noodle Dragons, Slow Romance, Story in three parts, Torture, cryptid AU, weredragon!Hanzo, werewolf!McCree
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-06-28 22:56:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 40,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15716799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NewFallenLeaves/pseuds/NewFallenLeaves, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SassKatt/pseuds/SassKatt
Summary: Hanzo Shimada and Jesse McCree share a connection -- they are both mythical creatures in human form, imbued with magic and special abilities. Hanzo can't help but be drawn to Jesse, curious as to what manner of creature he truly is and why he seems to hide it. When a freak accident occurs near Overwatch base, they take it upon themselves to investigate. What they discover is just the beginning -- a plot against mythics such as themselves, and a villain who will stop at nothing to attain what abilities they have.Cryptid AU -- Main Pairing: McHanzo





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone!  
> So - my big sister, NewFallenLeaves - heard through the grapevine and the many, many hours of playing Overwatch with me that I am a HUGE McHanzo fan. Since I'm chronically ill, and always harping that I need Healing, she wrote this little fanfiction of my favorite boys in a cryptid AU for me.  
> This is posted with her permission. (She does not have an AO3 account as of yet)
> 
> So please, enjoy this Cryptid AU.
> 
> ~ SassKatt  
> (Dubbed the Little Genji Sister)  
> (Because healing. I need it.)

**Part I - Dragon**

 

_Thwak._

The sound of the arrow striking the straw target was muffled. Hanzo frowned, even though he’d hit the center mark.

The effects of his molting period were in full swing. It made his skin itchy, his senses dull, and his patience thinner than usual. Having to spend several weeks feeling uncomfortable in his own skin while his mythical half underwent part of its life cycle was always irritating. He became constantly tired, unsure of what he was seeing and hearing, and uncertain of his balance, stamina, and skill.

Hanzo was supposed to still be at Overwatch headquarters, attending a debriefing about the situation in London. But he simply hadn’t been able to stand being in a stuffy, sterile room listening to one of the Omnics drone about statistics and troop deployment in a standoff that he wasn’t going to be a part of anyway. That was the commander’s mission, and he’d already made it clear who was assigned to that team. Hanzo, along with several other members of Overwatch, were twiddling their thumbs on standby.

Hanzo didn’t like waiting. And he didn’t like being bored. And he _especially_ didn’t like waiting around bored while his molting phase began.

_Thwak._

The arrow shuddered in the target, just left of the bullseye. Annoyed, Hanzo shook his left arm and scratched at the dragon tattoo. “Stop it,” he muttered.

He pushed aside the feelings of restlessness, glad that no one was there to witness his mistake. The tiny practice range had once been a bunker, part of the original Overwatch headquarters. Since the new construction, some of the old buildings and storage hangars had been emptied and abandoned. This was one such area, not far from the active base, but distanced enough that Hanzo could set up his range and practice as long as he liked without being interrupted or gawked at by onlookers and trainees.

He reset his stance, pulled another arrow, and sighted down the shaft.

_Thwak, thwak, thwak._

Three times in rapid succession the arrows hit their marks, not a single one of them off target. More satisfied, Hanzo drew another arrow, and this time closed his eyes.

_Thwak._

Dead center.

A low whistle of admiration came from the side of the practice range. Hanzo whirled, arrow notched, ready to fire.

“Whoa, whoa! Sorry!” McCree held up his hands, a grimace of embarrassment on his face. He took half a step sideways, so that the arrow was no longer aimed at his chest. “Didn’t mean to intrude. I didn’t think anyone would be here.”

Hanzo narrowed his eyes and didn’t move. How had he not sensed McCree’s approach? His heightened dragon senses -- in their dull molting phase or not -- should have made it easy to hear anyone who tried to enter the space. And McCree, especially, should have been obvious. The man was practically defined by the stench of tobacco, leather, gunsmoke and sweat. But as Hanzo stared, still aiming his arrow, he couldn’t seem to catch any of those familiar scents. Instead there was an odd, unnatural tang to the air.

His hands still up, McCree broke the silence. “Sooo...that was a hell of a shot just then. Don’t even have to look to aim, do ya?”

Hanzo drew in a deep breath, trying to taste the air on the back of his throat. This scent was completely unfamiliar. He could feel the dragon stirring inside him, as if it were being drawn to the aroma. Usually the dragon spirits didn’t respond to anything other than their own kind. Hanzo and Genji could of course sense each other’s spirits and communicate, among other things, but that was only because both of them harbored a dragon. The fact that a human’s presence could have an affect on the mythical being was unsettling.

McCree rocked back and forth on his toes, averting his eyes awkwardly from the intense stare he was getting. “Alrighty then! Well, I can see I’m bothering you, so I’ll just be going…”

Hanzo abruptly straightened and relaxed, suddenly aware of how long he had been holding his aim and how he must appear. He schooled his face to an impassive expression. “No, you don’t have to leave. I...apologize. I was very focused, but I did not mean to be rude.”

McCree hesitated a moment, as though he were still debating whether or not to leave. Hanzo chided himself inwardly -- he must have really given off a bad impression of his mood.

But a moment later McCree seemed to take him at his word. The gunman turned to face him fully again, a half smirk on his face. “That’s all right. I get focused myself sometimes with training. I get it.”

Hanzo waved an arm towards the targets. “If you would like to use the range, please, be my guest.”

“Naw, I wasn’t aiming to take over your space. I was just on a walk and I heard somebody in here, so I came to see, that’s all. Besides, straw doesn’t hold up too well against bullets.” As soon as he said the words, they seemed to give McCree an idea. He straightened, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “Although they do make a fun explosion with the hay. Wanna see?”

Hanzo had no particular interest in watching someone else play target practice, especially while he still felt the need to work on his own reflexes. But his arm itched and tremored again, telling him that whatever progress he had made would probably be gone again in the next moment. And besides that, he _had_ just offered the range to McCree.

He nodded. “As I said. Be my guest.”

McCree practically skipped across the distance between them, revolver already twirling in his hand. Hanzo blinked, wondering how he had missed seeing the man draw the weapon from its holster.

McCree set himself in an easy but sturdy stance just a few paces away from where Hanzo stood in the center of the range. “Center target, top left corner,” he said, keeping his eyes trained unblinking on Hanzo.

The shot rang out, and Hanzo tensed at the sudden blast of noise, though he didn’t flinch. It did remind him of one of the reasons he disliked firearms -- the overwhelming sound of them could make a man deaf, and always left him bewildered as to how anyone could maintain their concentration while using them.

McCree’s grin died. “If ya didn’t really want to see any straw explosions, all ya had to do was say no.”

Hanzo blinked, and again realized he’d been staring -- directly at McCree. The two of them had stood there, gazes locked, while McCree fired. And Hanzo realized something else as McCree’s expression fell to disappointment -- the reason McCree had looked at him instead of the target was because he had been trying to match Hanzo’s earlier feat of shooting without looking. And Hanzo had completely missed seeing the shot.

“I’m sorry,” Hanzo apologized quickly, “I was...distracted.”

“A minute ago you were too focused. Make up your mind, Han!” McCree tossed the jab with a laugh to show he was joking, but looked nervous a moment later, as though afraid the tease might come across as an insult.

Hanzo tried to relax his expression, to put the man at ease. He turned to look down the range, and saw the upper left corner of the center target completely obliterated. “Please, continue. I will pay closer attention this time.”

“Well, don’t feel like you gotta take it too seriously, now, this is just for fun. But if you insist -- center low, right high, left bullseye!” With barely a flick of his wrist, McCree sounded off three rapid shots. The bottom of the center target blew out, making it jump and topple; the upper half of the right target vanished in a puff of straw; and the left target shuddered, spraying straw in all directions as a gaping hole appeared at its center.

Hanzo cocked an eyebrow, and sneaked a sidelong glance at McCree. The self-proclaimed cowboy was still staring straight at him -- he’d never sighted down the range at all.

While he was impressed, Hanzo was not one to ever admit to such, or give encouragement to others. Instead, he maintained his calm expression and said pointedly, “You have two shots left.”

To his surprise, McCree seemed not only to understand the challenge, but was amused by it as well. His eyebrows shot up and his smile turned up with mirth. “So I do,” he said. With a flick of his thumb, he set the bullet chamber spinning. As it whizzed around, McCree stared straight at Hanzo, smirked, and said, “Fletching.”

The shot cracked the air, despite the fact that McCree never halted the barrel’s rotation. And although none of the targets moved or showed any signs of being hit, instead -- and Hanzo could only see it because of his heightened vision -- the thin line of feathered fletching on one of his arrows, still stuck in the target, was shaved clean off.

This time Hanzo very nearly did say something. Just in time he tamped down the word of praise that rose to his tongue, but he eyed McCree with a new respect. If that was the kind of shot he came up with after a casual challenge, Hanzo wondered what else the man could really do. Carefully schooling his features, he nodded sagely at McCree. “You still have one shot left.”

McCree only grinned, and holstered the revolver. “Gotta save something for next time, don’tcha think?” He spun on his heel, casually waving as he strode away. “Thanks for lettin’ me join in the fun for a bit, Hanzo. See ya!”

As McCree turned away, his serape billowed with the movement. The air it displaced was minute; it couldn’t even be called a ‘breeze’ or even a ‘puff’ of air. But to the sensitive dragons that resided in Hanzo, it was enough to carry another hint of the strange scent.

Hanzo could practically feel the two spirits coiling, both of them interested. And although Hanzo couldn’t catch the scent as intensely as the spirits he carried, he could tell that it was decidedly not human.

Hanzo frowned as McCree walked away, exiting the target range and whistling as he went. McCree had never touted himself as anything other than a normal human, and no one at Overwatch had hinted at anything unnatural about him, either. All of his files were standard, and his skill set -- while impressive -- was still well within the range of mortal. But there was no mistaking it. Even if Hanzo hadn’t noticed the inhuman scent, the fact that the dragon spirits were responding to McCree with such interest was evidence enough.

The only other person Hanzo had ever felt the supernatural connection to was his brother. Seeing as they both harbored mythical beings in their souls, it was only natural. But while he and Genji certainly never flaunted their abilities, they hadn’t ever tried to hide them either. Everyone at Overwatch -- and the world, for that matter, since it was a publicly recognized organization -- knew that he could summon the spirits, and a large part of Genji’s martial skills was dependent on his own dragon.

So why had no one mentioned McCree’s mythical connection? And what _was_ the connection, exactly?


	2. Chapter 2

Hanzo returned to the practice range the next three nights, at the same time. He told himself that it was simply to maintain his skills during the molting phase, and to distract him from the ever-more-irritating physical discomfort that came with it. He was experiencing headaches now, a consistent throbbing at his forehead and behind his eyes that was indicative of the dragon horns velveting and growing. But a small part of him had to acknowledge that he was also there hoping that McCree might join him again, curious to find out more about the man and what he truly was.

The arrow struck the target, too far to the left for the ninth time in a row. Hanzo sighed, frustrated. The headaches weren’t allowing him to concentrate as well as he normally could, and it meant that not a single one of his shots tonight had centered the way he wanted them to. He let his shoulders relax and turned his head back and forth, stretching his neck, hoping to relieve some of the tension. The light of an almost full moon streamed in through the windows along the building’s north side. It was just starting to wane now, which meant that the molting phase was about half over.  _ A few more weeks, _ Hanzo reminded himself. 

From somewhere deep in his chest, the feeling of discomfort and restlessness intensified. His head throbbed worse for a moment, and when it passed he grumbled. “All right, all right. Go on, then.”

Extending his left arm, he whispered a short incantation. The tattoos from shoulder to wrist glowed blue, and seemed to lift away from his skin. In a moment, two silvery dragon apparitions formed in midair, spinning and stretching themselves. One of them practically danced in delight at the sudden freedom, and nipped at the other’s tail.

“Udon, behave,” Hanzo said.

Udon didn’t seem to hear or care about the chastisement. He rocketed up to the ceiling of the target range, then careened back down again, whirling around his sister. Soba, on the other hand, ignored him. She stretched daintily, turned her head to carefully adjust an itchy scale, then floated towards one of the windows, her body gliding ribbon-like through the air.

“Don’t go far,” Hanzo said.

Neither dragon gave any indication that they had heard him, but he could sense their mood and thoughts just as easily as they could his. Soba sent him a mental nod, along with a glimmer of color that meant she was grateful and content. Udon lit up his thoughts with a burst of bright light and an enthusiastic bob of his tail. He was excited, but would be obedient.

The two of them passed through the window as if the glass weren’t there, out into the open air. For a moment Hanzo could still see them, and the moonlight made their corporeal forms shimmer even more than usual. In the next instant they were gone, flying somewhere to do something dragon-like, he supposed.

He stepped outside as well, and the cool night air seemed to immediately reduce his headache further. Releasing the dragons and letting them distance themselves from his human body alleviated a good part of the molting discomfort, but separation also slowed the process as a whole. He would rather keep the dragons with him throughout the duration of the phase, and get it all over with as quickly as possible. But every once in a while, a respite was welcome.

The dragons enjoyed it, too. Looking up, he could see two trails of light, like comet tails, darting from one cloud to another. They continued their private game of chase until they finally disappeared from sight, somewhere over the tree line. Hanzo didn’t worry; the spiritual bond between them couldn’t be severed by mere physical distance. Though it grew fainter, he could always feel the connection.

The Watchpoint at headquarters was really situated in a beautiful place, Hanzo had to admit. He wondered if the founders of Overwatch had taken that into account when they started building and staking out their claims in various countries. Secluded in its own bay, this Watchpoint had easy access to land, air, or sea. The building perched at the top of a natural cliff, with levels full of laboratories, med decks, and engineering ateliers extending all the way to the beach below. The cliffs extended for miles in either direction, and just off the coast a small island hovered along the horizon line. The surf against the rocks was constant, but far enough below the mainland that it became just a calm wash of background sound.

Hanzo was just starting to feel the headache finally ease away when every muscle in his body suddenly tensed in alarm. The dragons bombarded him with a such an intense sense distress that he almost reeled and lost his footing. His vision blurred for just a moment, and then as the initial shock passed he was running, north along the cliffs, in the direction the dragons had flown.

The dragons couldn’t be hurt, that much he was certain of. They were practically immortal anyway, and even in a corporeal form very little could affect or interact with them. And if one of them had somehow become injured, he would have also felt a physical effect. But even so, he was on high alert, scouting the area, scanning the sky ahead for signs of anything that might have caused his dragons to become so upset.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary -- except for a red glow on the horizon, just beyond the rise of a rocky outcropping. Hanzo saw it now only because he was looking for it.

A glimmer in the sky caught his attention as Udon rocketed towards him. The little dragon’s frill was raised in alarm, his tail stiff with tension. Hanzo didn’t break stride as Udon circled him and flew alongside at the same rate.

“Is your sister all right?” Hanzo asked.

The dragon sent him images in soothing blue, with bolts of lightning strewn throughout. The color meant that Soba was fine, but lightning was always a sign to hurry. Hanzo extended his stride, and put on a burst of speed.

As he crested the outcropping, he finally saw what had caused the dragons such distress. A small plane lay mangled and half torn apart at the edge of the cliff face, its engine still smoking and burning steadily. Hunks of metal and pieces of cockpit and wing were strewn in all directions. The tail had been severed, and half of what remained of the plane’s body dangled dangerously off the edge.

Udon zoomed ahead, spinning worriedly above the cockpit. Soba poked her head above the cliff, near the precariously balanced part of the plane. She chittered something frantic, then ducked out of sight again.

Hanzo dashed to the cockpit, grateful for the dragonsight that let him see well, even in the smoky air. His human lungs, however, were still very susceptible, and he held his breath as he ducked his head into the dark interior.

The pilot slumped in the seat, still strapped in place. Pulling an arrow from his quiver, Hanzo sawed the sharp edge along the belts, severing them quickly. Grasping the unconscious man’s shoulders, he heaved him from the wreckage.

Hanzo dragged the man a safe distance as the plane’s engine creaked and groaned with the heat. The metal made a horrible grating sound, and the entire body of the plane shifted, sliding further over the cliff edge.

“He’s alive,” Hanzo assured Udon, as the dragon hovered worriedly. Soba, however, refused to come towards them, and instead continued to jump in and out of sight over the edge of the cliff. The flashes of emotion she sent him were just as frantic as they had been at the start.

“Is somebody up there?” a faint, but familiar voice hollered.

Hanzo scurried to the edge and peered over. 

Soba hovered a good distance down the cliff -- a good thirty or forty yards, Hanzo guessed -- where McCree clung one-handed to the sheer rock face.

“Did you get the pilot out?” McCree shouted.

“Yes, he’s safe. What about you?”

“I’m fine, but the kid isn’t.”

Hanzo was about to ask what he meant, but Soba anticipated his need. She projected an image to him, from her own perspective, and for a moment Hanzo could see the entire scene as though he were hovering in midair, next to McCree.

A child, no more than ten years old, dangled vulnerably from McCree’s right hand. The safety straps attached to his flight suit, which McCree held tight, were the only things keeping him from plummeting into the ocean surf six stories below. McCree had managed to brace himself well, with solid footholds and a good grip with his left arm, but as long as he held onto the kid he had no way of climbing up to safety.

Hanzo blinked rapidly, dissolving the image. “Hang on. I’m sending down a rope.”

“As much as I appreciate that,” McCree said, “I don’t think I can grab it. Or tie it around the kid’s waist, or anything helpful, really.”

“You don’t have to do anything,” Hanzo assured him. “Udon, go into the plane, find the emergency supplies. Soba, come, I’ll need you both.”

Soba flew to his side while Udon darted into the smoking wreckage. Hanzo knelt by the cliff, trying to keep an eye on McCree while he worked quickly. He stripped the belt and buckle off his quiver, forming it into a loop that could be pulled tight. Another moment and he did the same with his own belt, and buckled the two loops together. By this time Udon had returned with a coil of nylon rope in his jaws. Hanzo was grateful for the mental connection they shared -- he hadn’t even had to tell Udon exactly what supplies he was looking for. The dragons always instinctively knew.

Hanzo knotted the entire rig together and held it up for the dragons to see. “Shoulders and waist,” he said, handing them each a loop.

In tandem, Soba and Udon snapped up the makeshift harness in their jaws and dove over the cliff edge. Like synchronized divers they flew to where McCree perched, and, working together, eased the harness around the child’s body until the loops were securely tightened around his shoulders and hips.

“Don’t let go yet,” Hanzo warned McCree. “Until I can pull him up far enough we know it will hold his weight.”

“I still got ‘im,” McCree hollered back.

Hanzo gave the rope a tentative pull. The dragons continued to hover near the child, sending encouraging bursts of emotion that told Hanzo the harness was working as it should. He tugged, hand over hand, pulling the precious cargo up the cliff face with relative ease. When Udon let out a little hoot of relief, Hanzo knew they’d succeeded. He leaned over the edge and reached down, the child close enough now that he could grasp the straps and pull the child to safety.

Hanzo set the little boy’s unconscious form just a yard or two from the edge. Working quickly, he checked to make sure he was alive, then rapidly unhooked the harness and turned immediately back to the edge, with the full intention of tossing it to McCree next. To his shock, McCree was already at the top, and already pulling himself over the ledge.

“Is he ok?” McCree asked as soon as he was back on solid ground.

“Yes, he’s fine. Why didn’t you wait for the rope?”

“Oh. Sorry, I just didn’t think about it I guess. Wanted to make sure he was ok, I never got a chance to check on him before the plane started to go over. He was already hangin’ by a thread, I had to grab him quick before he fell.”

“And why didn’t you radio the Watchtower for help?”

“Geez, what’s with the third degree? I didn’t get here more than twenty minutes before you did, and like I said, there wasn’t time. Plus I don’t have my comm on me.” McCree gave an embarrassed grin. “I can’t tell you how mighty glad I am that someone happened by, otherwise I don’t know how long we mighta been stuck there.”

Hanzo found himself suspicious of the way McCree was brushing the situation off, but he decided not to press the issue. “You’re lucky the dragons found you.”

“Sure am! And this little lady is just a peach.” McCree reached out and scratched Soba under the chin. She hummed with delight. “Soon as she found us, she stayed, makin’ sure we weren’t going to fall.”

“Yes, Soba is very--” Hanzo halted. “How did you know she was female?”

McCree’s eyebrows shot up and he colored with embarrassment. “Oh, I ah...just guessed. She seemed like the maternal type.”

Hanzo found himself irritated for some reason. McCree’s nonchalance about climbing the cliff without waiting for the safety of a rope, or help of any kind; his sudden familiarity with the dragons; his unconvincing reason for not calling on the Watchpoint. It was standard procedure for all Overwatch agents to carry some form of communication device with them at all times. It was irresponsible for McCree to have left the base for any reason without--

Hanzo blinked and -- infuriatingly -- blushed as he realized why McCree had no comm device with him.

The man barely had any  _ clothes _ on him.

McCree stood, wearing nothing but a too-large pair of ripped jeans, his form silhouetted in the red glow of the burning wreckage, which suddenly cast everything in an entirely different light now that everyone was safe and any danger had passed. The firelight flickered on his bare chest, which glistened with just the barest sheen of sweat. Without his trademark hat, his hair had an even more wild and ruggedly disheveled look to it, likely thanks to the constant sea breeze that toyed with the unkempt locks.

Averting his gaze before McCree could catch him staring, Hanzo stammered, “What...happened to your shirt?”

McCree glanced down at himself, as he seemed to have forgotten his lack of clothing in the excitement of the moment as well. He rubbed his neck, embarrassed. “Right! Ah, sorry, I was...swimming.”

“In the ocean?”

“Naw, in the Olympic pool next to the plane. Yeah, of course, I swam in the ocean. Where’s the crime in that?”

Hanzo could tell McCree was growing frustrated, but he couldn’t let it slide for some reason. “You went swimming, this far out from base, and in jeans?”

“Han, it’s--”

The plane made a nasty, grating sound, belched a gout of flame and smoke, and rolled sideways. The portion of the tail already dangling over the cliff made a concentrated effort to pull the remainder of the plane with it. The entire structure slid another foot over the ledge, then settled, not quite ready to fall.

Hanzo and McCree shared a nervous glance.

“I’ll call the Watchpoint,” Hanzo said. “We should get these two to Angela.”

McCree reached for the pilot, and hoisted the unconscious man onto his back and shoulders. “The sooner we meet up with the med team, the better, most likely. Can you take the little ‘un?”

“Of course.” 

It only took a moment to click the emergency signal on his communication device; Hanzo keyed in the code that would track their location and send the need for medical assistance. Then he scooped the child up in his arms, and the two of them headed for base. Soba hovered close to McCree as they trekked, a detail that Hanzo made note of. Even in corporeal form, the dragons seemed drawn to him. They had, after all, been the ones to find him. And while Hanzo could have dismissed their behavior and written off the incident as the dragons simply being drawn to the fire and the wreckage of the plane, he had a sneaking suspicion that it had more to do with McCree and that odd, unplaceable vibe the man gave off.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo! Alright, Chapter two up, and chapter three pending!  
> Hope y'all are enjoying it - leave kudos or comments if you like!!
> 
> Cheers!
> 
> *posted with the Author - NewFallenLeaves - permission*


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's to Chapter three!
> 
> *always posted with the author's permission*

After the two survivors were stabilized and settled in the medical bay, and all reports of the incident had been logged, Hanzo retreated to his private quarters. He hadn’t yet called the dragons back to him, and didn’t know if he even wanted to. The two of them had immediately taken over his bed -- Soba twining her body delicately around so that she fit perfectly on a single pillow, while Udon burrowed haphazardly under the blankets until he had created a tangled nest for himself, where only the tip of his snout and a single rear claw poked out visibly. They both looked pleased with themselves, and comfortable, and after the help they had given him and McCree, Hanzo thought they deserved to have fun for a little while longer.

Leaving the bed to the dragons, he settled himself on a circular cushion on the floor. Pulling loose the binding on his ponytail, he let his hair shake loose and tried to quell the thoughts than ran through his preoccupied mind.

He hadn’t gotten a chance to ask McCree on their way back to base, and he wasn’t sure the man would have answered him truthfully anyway, but something else had been nagging him about McCree’s claim of simply being out for a swim.

If McCree had really been in the ocean when he saw the crashed plane, it meant he would have had to climb  _ up _ the cliff to reach the wreckage. But that was several hundred feet, straight up a sheer rock face. As...physically impressive...as McCree was, Hanzo wasn’t sure such a thing was possible.

On a whim, Hanzo sent a mental inquiry to Soba. She raised her head from the pillow and chirped, then shared with him her thoughts and impressions from when she’d been hovering on the cliff face beside McCree. The images were scattered and impressionistic now, not as perfectly clear like they had been when she was there, looking directly at the scene. But that was to be expected. She was an animal, after all, and mental communication was an imperfect science, at best.

But Hanzo could see the image in his mind clearly enough to make out an odd detail -- a trail of gouges, deep slash marks in the rock, as if from some savage beast. And they drew a straight path up the cliff face, from the water line to the wreckage.

 

\---

 

One of the first things Hanzo did the following morning was flip open his electronic reading pad. Most often it was used for debriefings on missions, information on Overwatch agents and files, and keeping mission logs. But it also contained a huge library database, and allowed users electronic access to a vast array of books, manuals, schematics, blueprints, and so on.

Hanzo had been thinking about all the strange details he’d noticed about McCree -- the odd scent, the dragon’s responses to him, the man’s noted absence during the apex cycle of the moon, the claw marks on the cliff face and the inexplicable feats of strength and endurance. He already had a particular suspicion in mind, and a quick database search brought up several texts on the subject he was interested in.

He settled into the chair at his desk, propped the tablet, and withdrew a small pair of reading glasses from the drawer. For the next hour or so, he delved into the research, until the door chime pinged.

Hastily, Hanzo stripped off the glasses and dumped them back in the drawer. “Come in,” he said, gruffly.

McCree pushed through the doorway, the ever-present grin on his face and a stuffed animal tucked under his arm. “Hey, Hanzo!”

“Good morning,” Hanzo said, curious as to why McCree was showing up at his room. The man seemed to have a liking for following Hanzo to all his quiet places. First the target range, how here.

“Whatcha readin’?” If McCree was anything, it certainly wasn’t shy. He sauntered into the room as though he lived there himself, and came right up beside Hanzo at the desk. He peered at the reading pad. “ _ Myths and Legends of North America. _ Never took you for much of a history buff. Anything you’re studying in particular?”

“Perhaps,” Hanzo said. He swiped away the text, leaving the tablet blank, and eyed McCree intently. “What do you need? You seem like you came here with something in mind.”

“I was heading down to the infirmary to visit the kid. Wanna come?”

“Ah. I was wondering why you were carrying a stuffed animal.”

“Sure! Every kid needs some company.” McCree held it out proudly.

Hanzo took the offered toy. It was a wolf puppy, mottled tan and brown and cream, with sleek fur along its body and fluffier strands drifting from its tail and neck. Its mouth gaped open in a puppy dog smile, and its row of teeth were rounded, soft nubs. But one ear drooped more than the other, as though the seam were loose, and part of the waist was caved in, like someone had hugged it too long and collapsed the stuffing.

McCree saw the scrutiny in Hanzo’s face, and his smile fell. “What’s wrong with it? You think he won’t like it?”

“No, it just seems worn.”

“Well yeah,” McCree snatched the plush toy back and smoothed a tuft on its ear. “Pup here got me through some rough stuff when I was a kid, ‘course he’s a little run down.”

Hanzo’s eyebrows arced in surprise. “You’re giving him your own toy?”

“What about it?” McCree said, defensively.

“Nothing, I think it’s very…” Hanzo searched for the right word, “...classy of you.”

McCree narrowed his eyes, suspicious of the compliment. “Don’t poke fun at me. A minute ago you said he was all worn out.” He frowned at the wolf pup. “Bah, you’re probably right. Shouldn’t be givin’ out hand-me-downs.”

“No, really,” Hanzo said. “It makes the gift more personal and therefore meaningful.”

McCree remained unconvinced. “I dunno...maybe I should get a new one, or something else.”

“It’s hardly noticeable.”

“ _ You _ noticed.”

Hanzo sighed. “Then I apologize. I shouldn’t have been so quick to criticize. But if you’re worried now because I said something, give it to me. We’ll fix it.” He held out his hand.

“What’re you gonna do?” McCree asked, passing him the stuffed animal.

“You’ll see. Udon!”

A blob of cloth, shaped remarkably like a dragon head, snapped up from the bedding, still completely encased in the folds of the blankets. It wobbled back and forth for a moment while Udon tried to get his bearings from inside the fort he’d folded around himself. Then he found the edge of the sheet, and poked his snout free.

“Bring me a pillow?” Hanzo asked.

Udon practically zoomed from underneath the blankets, and went straight for Soba’s pillow, because of course she had chosen the fluffiest to sleep on. For a minute they fought, Udon trying to tug the pillow out from under his sister, and Soba nipping at him and swiping with her tiny front claws to get him to let go and leave her be. Eventually Udon relented and Soba resettled herself, primly readjusting the corner of the pillow that Udon had chewed and flattened. Udon opted for the second comfiest pillow on the bed, snatching it up in his jaws and carrying it eagerly to Hanzo.

“Troublemaker,” Hanzo chided.

“Well hello there,” McCree said, reaching out to give the dragon a scratch. “Good to see you again. Thanks for all your help yesterday.”

Udon thrummed, leaning into the head scratch and then presenting his belly for a rub as well.

“Yes, please, keep him busy so I can work in peace,” Hanzo said, retrieving his reading glasses. “Otherwise he will try to rip apart all the stuffing once I open the seam.”

“Can do!” McCree unhooked a silver catch from his belt. “Hey, fella, wanna play?” He tossed the clip in the air, encouraged by Udon’s response. The dragon bolted upright in the air, eyes trained on the shiny object.

McCree tossed the metal piece across the room, and Udon caught it before it hit the ground. Instead of bringing it back for another toss and fetch, though, Udon chomped the metal clip with his teeth, then zoomed out of the room.

“Hey, where’s he going?”

Hanzo had already threaded the needle and was halfway through reinforcing the seam on the wolf up’s ear. He didn’t look up. “Did you throw something shiny?”

“Yeah.”

“Then it’s gone. He’ll probably put it in his hoard.”

“Oh.”

Hanzo glanced over the rim of the glasses. “Sorry. I will get you a replacement.”

Suddenly he realized McCree was leaning close, scrutinizing him, and for a moment Hanzo thought it might be because he was about to make some smug, teasing comment. He shouldn’t have put on his reading glasses, he thought, self-consciously.

But McCree’s expression was only curious, and impressed. “You can sew?”

“Of course. Can’t you?”

McCree snorted. “Are you kiddin’? I don’t know how you can even  _ see  _ those fiddly little bits of string, much less loop ‘em through teeny needle holes and tie ‘em in knots.”

“It’s a practical skill. I thought all children grew up learning such things.”

“Hey, I got plenty of practical skill! I can fold my own shirts.”

Hanzo had to check himself, because he almost let out a laugh. “Forgive me. I stand corrected.” He tied off the end of the thread, and the wolf pup’s ear stood noticeably straighter.

“Oh, I see what you did,” McCree said, appreciatively.

“One more thing.” Turning the wolf pup upside down, Hanzo poked with the pointed end of the needle and slit the seam along the toy’s stomach. The old thread broke easily, and a sizeable gap in the fabric, along with curls of stuffing, appeared.

“Pup!” McCree gasped, clapping a hand to his mouth.

Hanzo stared at him. “I promise you, he feels no pain.”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” McCree waved for him to continue. “Just wasn’t expecting to see my little buddy split open so easy, I guess.”

“He just needs a little more stuffing,” Hanzo explained. He slit the seam on the pillow as well, and transferred some of the plush interior, filling out the collapsed part of Pup’s side. It only took a minute or two, and then Hanzo was stitching closed the gap and tying off the thread. When he was finished, he smoothed the fur over the wolf’s belly, and the seam was practically invisible.

He handed it back, complete with an upright ear and fluffy tummy.

“Lookin’ good, Pup!” McCree said. “Thanks, Hanzo, I don’t think the kid’ll be able to tell now if he’s used or not, he looks practically new.”

“You’re welcome.”

Tucking the wolf pup under one arm, McCree presented the other to Hanzo with a mischievous gleam. “Shall we go?”

Hanzo frowned. “The invite is much appreciated, but I don’t know that I am prepared to visit them. I certainly don’t have a gift to bring like you do.”

“‘Course you do, you fixed him up! He’s from both of us now.”

Hanzo hesitated.

“Come on, Han, don’t be such a recluse. I’m sure him and his dad would be more’n glad to see you, you’re one of the people who rescued ‘em, after all.”

There was certainly no harm in it, Hanzo reasoned. In fact, he might almost be able to  say he had somewhat of an obligation to follow up with them, see how they were recovering. And -- even more than that -- he found that he actually did like the idea of spending at least part of the day in McCree’s company.

Hanzo stood. “Very well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end of that one! 
> 
> The next chapter should be out in a few days!
> 
> As always, Kudos and comments are welcome!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Always posted with author's permission*

Both survivors of the plane wreck were awake and in good spirits. The little boy, Mateo, had miraculously come through the entire experience mostly unscathed. He sported a bio-regenerative patch on one knee, and a neat row of old-fashioned butterfly bandages along his jaw. For a moment Hanzo wondered why Angela would bother with such primitive healing methods when she could have closed the scratches on his face quickly and completely. Then he saw the boy’s father, whose face was marred by an old scar along his jawline, and Hanzo understood. The scratches on Mateo’s face were superficial -- he would never bear any scars from it -- but for the time being, it gave father and son something more to bond over, and a reason for Mateo to stay with his father in the infirmary.

“Look!” Mateo thrust the stuffed animal in his father’s face. “Look what they gave me. I’m going to name him Captain Crash MacGuffin.”

“Sure, you can name him whatever you want!” McCree said amiably. But when Hanzo sneaked a sideways glance, he thought he could see the cowboy’s eyes twitching.

“Thank you so much, both of you,” the boy’s father, Luca, shook their hands with his left, since his right was fastened stiffly in a mech-cast. “Dr. Ziegler told me what you did for us.”

“Just glad to help,” McCree said. “Has the commander been by to talk to you? He can set up a way to get you both home.”

“Yes, Commander Morrison was very kind. He already contacted our family for us.”

“Where were you traveling to?” Hanzo asked, curious.

“Nowhere, I was just taking Mateo up for a plane ride. This is his week to stay with me, and we always go for a flight at least once while he’s visiting.”

“Do you know what caused the crash?”

Luca shook his head. “I’m afraid I can’t recall. Dr. Ziegler did say that I showed signs of a mild concussion, so I must have hit my  head early on.”

“It was because they shot at us,” Mateo said, bringing Captain Crash MacGuffin out of a nosedive.

All three men looked at him in surprise.

“What d’you mean by that?” McCree asked, concerned.

“Papa heard the lady ask for help. She called on the radio.”

“You received a distress call?” Hanzo asked.

Luca looked bewildered. “I don’t remember…”

“And when we flew closer to answer her, they shot us.” Mateo hopped off his father’s infirmary bed, now bobbing the wolf pup up and down along the floor, as though he were swimming.

“Who’s they?” McCree wondered. “We’re the only outpost in this area for miles.”

“Where were you when you received the call?” Hanzo asked.

Luca was growing flustered. “I really can’t say. We usually just circle the coastline; Mateo likes to look out at the water and the island…”

One of the monitors at the bedside beeped, and Angela poked her head around the doorway, frowning. “If you make my patient’s blood pressure go up, I’ll do the same for yours,” she warned.

“Sorry, Angie,” McCree said.

“Leave them be. If you’re that interested in the crash, go talk to Morrison. He took the report earlier.”

“Yeah, all right,” McCree shook Luca’s hand one more time and gave Mateo a ruffle on his head. “You two take care, safe travels home.”

They left the infirmary, and Hanzo wasn’t surprised at all when McCree immediately strode down the corridors in the direction of the command offices. He turned on his heel and followed.

 

\----

 

“Come on, Commander! Somebody gunned down a little private plane with a kid on board. That’s no accident. And it’s not somethin’ we can just ignore, especially in our backyard!”

“I’m not disagreeing. But I also can’t send out a team based on a story told by a seven year old.”

“You think he’d lie about somethin’ like this?”

“No, but I do think he might have misunderstood.” Morrison folded his arms. “Kids hear things all the time that they don’t comprehend. He’s little, he’s excited, he’s up in a plane having an adventure. A normal inquiry over the static in the radio becomes a distress call, in his mind.”

“What about searching the wreckage? They have those boxes that would’ve recorded the conversation.”

“There won’t be one in a privately owned plane that small.”

“At least let _somebody_ take a look around.”

“Around where, McCree? How do we know where the distress call might have originated? I wouldn’t know where to send a team to even begin.”

McCree let out a frustrated grumble at the back of his throat. For a moment he and the commander stared at each other, neither breaking eye contact, each too stubborn to give up on their stance.

“McCree,” Hanzo said, rising to his feet. “I feel like going for a walk. Care to join me?”

Morrison cocked an eyebrow at the sudden change of subject, his eyes glancing between the two of them. McCree’s nose crinkled in momentary confusion, but then he relented. “Sure. I’m done here anyway.” With a wave to the commander that seemed more disrespectful than cordial, McCree stomped out of the room, Hanzo on his heels.

McCree fumed as they strode briskly down the hallways. “He’s gonna let this one slide, like he does all the other lil’ ‘incidents.’ I ain’t askin’ for a full blown operation, ya know? Just...it ain’t right, somebody gunnin’ down a family for no reason, an’ everybody jus’ turnin’ a blind eye.”

Hanzo noticed that McCree’s accent became more pronounced when he was upset. More drawl, fewer letters. It was endearing. “I was thinking the island would be a good place to start.”

McCree glanced at him, surprised. “I appreciate it, Hanzo, but I don’t want you to get in trouble stickin’ your neck out for my sake. Commander don’t approve, so I couldn’t ask you to come on an unsanctioned mission.”

“You don’t have to,” Hanzo replied. “Besides, I agree with you on both counts. Whoever would use the guise of a distress signal to lure in and attack innocent people has no integrity or honor. And such actions cannot be allowed to go unpunished.”

“Yeah, but we can’t just take a walk to the island. And we can’t ask permission to borrow a skimmer or a hoverjet, either. The commander will know what we want it for.”

“I was thinking about that, too,” Hanzo said. He took a side corridor and headed for a stairwell that would take them down towards the engineering labs, McCree in tow.

 

\----

 

The engineering level housed the main hangar, peppered with labs and workshops along each side of the massive space. It was always characterized by a significant amount of noise. Machinery buzzing, the hiss of welding, static fizzle and pop of electricity, the steady clanking of gears and tools. But today, as they approached one particular lab office, the usual background noise was permeated by grumbles of annoyance and displeasure.

Hanzo halted in front of the lab he wanted, and tapped lightly on the door. From the other side came an expletive, followed by the sound of something clattering against the wall. Hanzo exchanged a curious glance with McCree, who only shrugged. Tapping the door again, Hanzo was only greeted with more of the same --- a frustrated person on the other side, and more crashes and bangs. There was no indication that anyone was going to respond to their knock.

Taking the initiative, Hanzo pressed the door release, and it slid open on its own.

“Watch it!” a woman shouted at them, and something whizzed through the doorway at a dangerous speed, nearly clipping McCree’s head.

The construct -- a strange mix of lighted grids and mechanical parts -- rocketed across the open hangar, shooting towards the ceiling at least two stories overhead before finally slamming into the far wall and shattering. It broke apart, disintegrating in a shimmer of light that sputtered out like fallen star.

“Huh,” Satya said, peering past them. “The range is better than I thought. Hey!” she suddenly seemed to notice Hanzo and McCree, blinking at her from just outside the doorway. “Do not come barging in when testing is in process!”

“We knocked,” McCree said.

“Regardless.” She frowned, turning her attention to the computer monitor beside her. Resting her left arm on the console, she snatched up a spindly tool with her free hand and poked at one of the joints on the mechanical wrist, popping open a panel and exposing a bundle of wiring. “Recalibrate,” she said, and the computer beeped in response to her voice command. “Reduce sensitivity by thirty percent. Increase assembly speed by twelve percent.”

Snapping the panel closed, she held up her arm and pinched the plating of the forefinger and thumb together. She twisted her wrist in a graceful motion, at the same time spinning her fingertips into a different pose. The motion was almost dance-like, and as she moved grids of light glimmered into being from the projector on her palm.

Whatever she was creating didn’t even have time to form before she waved it away with a snort of disgust. She dropped her arm back on the console, grabbed the same tool, opened the same panel, and said again, “Recalibrate.”

Hanzo cleared his throat.

Satya didn’t look up from her work. “Did you want something?”

“We would like to borrow one of your portal devices.”

“Borrow? As in, you’ll bring it back, or borrow as in, ‘Satya, we just want to take your gadget on a joyride and you’ll never see it again.’?”

Hanzo blinked, insulted. Never in his time at Overwatch had he so much as inquired about using items from their tech labs. He’d certainly never abused the privilege of having access to such gear, and for Satya to make such an assumption stung his pride. He started a reply, but McCree beat him to it.

“Second option, most likely,” McCree said.

Hanzo glared at him.

“What? It’s probably true. We don’t know what we’re gonna find over there, or what we can bring back.”

“Where are you trying to go?” Satya had closed the hatch on her arm, and was now giving the two of them her full attention.

McCree launched into an explanation, eager to tell the story. “Okay, see, there was this plane crash last night--”

“I heard. What I want to know is, where are you trying to go, and why do you think you need one of my portals?”

“The island, just off the coast,” Hanzo said. “We think someone sent a distress signal from there.”

“So take one of the skimmers.”

“Commander Morrison doesn’t think it’s worth investigatin’.”

“Ah,” Satya leaned, her demeanor suddenly thoughtful. “And if Commander Morrison does not approve of such an investigation, why should I?”

McCree plastered a grin across his face. “‘Cause we said ‘pretty please’?”

Satya looked bemused. “In the blue bin, under the table.”

Hanzo crossed the small space and crouched to retrieve the bin. It held half a dozen mechanical devices, which looked strangely organic, like seed pods with leaves folded up and around themselves. He picked one up, and it didn’t quite fit in the palm of his hand.

“Take two,” Satya said. She was already back and work on her mechanical arm. “They only work one-way, and once they’re set up they only have enough of a power cell to stay activated for a few minutes.”

“And...you won’t tell the commander?” McCree asked.

“Tell him what?” Satya did another experimental flex of her wrist. This time she seemed satisfied and swiveled in her chair, sighting down her arm at where McCree stood. “Don’t move, please.”

She traced a smooth pattern in the air. A construct burst form the emitter on her palm and arced through the air, cycling and shaping itself as it went. It cruised past McCree’s head and latched onto the wall beside him, opening up into an orb-like structure with a spindly set of legs.

McCree whistled appreciatively. “Neat,” he said, just before it electrocuted him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tiny Turrets FTW!
> 
> Leave a Kudos or a comment!
> 
> More to come!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCree and Hanzo go to explore just what the boy may have been talking about....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter!! Woo!!
> 
> *Always posted with the author's permission*

“I don’t see why she had to use me as a guinea pig,” McCree grumbled.

Hanzo stifled a chuckle and dusted off another singe mark on McCree’s serape. “It barely hurt you,” he said.

“You don’t know! You didn’t get zapped with it.”

“Touche. How bad was it then?”

“I dunno,” McCree pouted. “I guess it didn’t hurt _that_ much. My joints feel a little stiff though.” He flexed his right elbow carefully.

“Here,” Hanzo said. Without thinking, he reached for McCree’s arm, catching the elbow and probing the joint delicately with his fingertips. He found a knot of tension in the muscle, and proceeded to work it loose, kneading the area gently with his hand.

He glanced up after a moment, only to see McCree gazing down at him with a grateful smile. Hanzo found himself suddenly aware of how close they were standing. He let go quickly, and turned away to conceal his embarrassment. “Did that help?”

Now McCree’s glance was sly. “I dunno...maybe, ah, my neck is feeling a little stiff, too…”

Rolling his eyes, Hanzo ignored the quip and instead withdrew one of the portal devices from his belt. “We shouldn’t waste more time.”

It was already past noon, since the two of them had spent the morning in the infirmary and a good amount of time after that conversing with the commander and visiting engineering. If they wanted to investigate the island and hopefully find the source of the distress signal, they were already behind on having a full day to do so.

They had trekked out to the target range, far enough away from the main compound that they likely wouldn’t be noticed. Now they stood, just behind the building, looking out over the cliff face at the island in the distance.

Opening up a sighting lens on the device, Hanzo peered through and tried to line up as best he could with a rocky outcropping on the island. He wasn’t sure at first if he’d managed to do it right, but the machine clicked and lit up as though it had locked onto something, so he set it down. Once in the grass, it whirled and unfolded itself. The long metallic leaves that made up the pod-like structure spun outwards, creating a flowery shape on the ground. From there, an oval portal sprang up, shimmering red.

“Is it set up on the other end?” McCree shaded his eyes and squinted.

The portal base pinged and the entire thing turned blue.

“I think so,” Hanzo said.

“Then let’s do it!” Without hesitation, McCree stepped up to the portal and vanished through with a low _whoosh_. When he didn’t immediately come back, and nothing on the gadget seemed amiss, Hanzo followed.

It was a cold feeling, stepping through the portal. For the instant that it lasted, Hanzo could see nothing but white light, and there seemed to be no breath in his lungs. Then he was through. His feet landed on the grass and he turned to see the coastline where he had been only a moment ago, now miles away.

“That was easy,” McCree said, pointing.

Hanzo followed the curve of his arm. Not a hundred yards from where they had arrived, a ventilation pipe jutted up from the ground. It extended a foot into the air and was closed off with a barred grate.

“Uninhabited, they said,” McCree put hands on hips. “If there’s a pipe, then there’s a structure or somethin’ that it’s connected to.”

“Probably underground,” Hanzo surmised.

Behind them, the portal gave a _thwump_ and vanished.

“Well,” McCree said, watching it wink out of existence, “Your hunch was right. Looks like somebody’s hidin’ something on this island, if they bothered to build something underground. And if they wanted it to stay hidden, they might’ve decided to gun down a plane that flew a little too close.”

Hanzo pulled his bow from where it was slung over his shoulder, holding it ready in his hand. “Then I suggest we find whoever it is, and see what they’re hiding in Overwatch’s backyard.”

 

\------

 

It took them the better part of two hours to finally find more evidence of the facility than just a ventilation shaft, and another half hour to discover a point of entry. McCree was the one who spotted some kind of emergency hatch, nothing more than a rectangle of solid metal, half buried beneath grass and scrub. But there was no latch of any kind on the outside of the door, and they gave up trying to pry it open after a few attempts.

After that, Hanzo had the idea to descend a narrow ledge that they found on the far side of the island, less of a footpath and more like a continuous line of rock just deep enough to count as a toehold. But it traced a line down the ocean-facing cliff that was a bit too straight to be natural.

Climbing down was tedious and slow, but once they’d descended more than halfway to the shore below, Hanzo knew it had been worth it. Tucked between the rocks was the opening to a natural cave, just wide enough to squeeze through. Once inside, the stone corridor widened and led to steel door, this one with a handle.

“Is it open?” McCree asked.

Hanzo twisted the handle, feeling the stiffness of the lock, and shook his head.

“Oh well.” McCree unholstered his pistol. “Want me to shoot it?”

“That would be an excellent method for sneaking undetected into a hidden facility, yes,” Hanzo said with a sarcastic glare.

“No need to get testy about it, I was just offerin’.”

Kneeling in front of the lock, Hanzo withdrew one of his arrows from his quiver. Jamming the tip of the arrowhead into the mechanism, he tapped an almost invisible switch on the shaft. The arrow pinged, gave off a hum of electricity, and a moment later, sent sparks shooting along the entirety of the door frame. When the electricity stopped, Hanzo tugged at the handle again, and this time the door swung open.

“No alarms set off? No security or nothin’?” McCree observed.

“I’m sure they didn’t expect anyone to free climb down the side of the cliff and start exploring a cave whose opening is two stories above the water line.”

“I guess I wouldn’t expect it, neither, but if somebody gunned down a plane, not putting alarms on the doors just seems lazy.”

The hallway they entered was empty and sterile. Doors peppered the corridor, and large glass windows looked into rooms that were all similar in size, shape, and design. They were each equipped with examination tables, fluorescent lighting, and banks of computer equipment. Hanzo and McCree passed through two different corridors with the same layout, encountering no signs of life.

“Perhaps it’s abandoned,” Hanzo mused.

“Then why’re the lights on?”

Hanzo nodded in assent to the point, and paused as they passed a room where the computer monitors were lit and glowing. Curious, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The room was as empty as all the other in the facility, with the odd exception of a few large feathers scattered about the floor. Hanzo crossed to the computer monitor, scrutinizing the picture there.

“What’d you find?” McCree joined him.

“An anatomy chart of some kind.”

It resembled a woman, with one exceptional detail: a large pair of wings had been added to the diagram, extending from the woman’s shoulders and down nearly to her feet.

“Looks like somethin’ out of a med school,” McCree said. “Minus the wings.”

“I know this,” Hanzo muttered.

Being part dragon, he was well aware of the existence of other mythical creatures in the world. Few of them interacted with one another; most were known to be quite aloof, and didn’t often seek out the company of other who weren’t their own kind. But although he had never met or seen one in person, he knew what a siren was. When McCree tapped the screen and the diagram zoomed in on a close and detailed section of the woman’s vocal chords, it became all the more convincing.

“It just looks like more x-rays and some such,” McCree continued to rotate through the computer photos. “You think this is a hospital?”

“Too soon to tell,” Hanzo said.

The lab with the computer diagram became the start of an area that was decidedly not abandoned. They only passed two more rooms before they came across the next discovery.

“Aw, hell,” McCree breathed.

The exam table in the next lab they entered was occupied. A woman lay across it, but only part of her body was human. Her head, arms, and torso were all normal, but below her waist coiled the massive scaled body and tail of a serpent. Her elbows, wrists, and waist were fastened securely to the table, and large portions of her body had been sliced open in precise, straight lines. All down the serpent tail, portions of muscle and bone had been left exposed and visible. Gaping holes remained where organs might have been.

Already an unsettling sight, Hanzo was uneasy about something else: how clean the scene was. Little blood or mess, and no sign of rot or decay. Whoever had done it had been a professional, and they had done it very, very recently. “I think the distress signal was genuine,” Hanzo said quietly.

“What the hell is this?” McCree gaped. “Sick experiments, fusing people and animals?”

Hanzo shook his head. “She’s a naga.”

“What does that mean?”

“Half human, half snake.”

McCree curled his lip in disbelief. “What, like a medusa?”

“Not quite.” Hanzo reached gently with his fingertips, muttered a quick prayer, and brushed the woman’s eyelids closed. “I think someone here tried to escape and call for help. That’s what Luca and Mateo heard on the plane. But whoever runs this facility must have caught them, and then gunned down the plane to keep anyone on the outside from finding out.” He pulled an arrow and set it against his bow, ready to draw at a moment’s notice. “What worries me is that no one knows we’re here right now.”

“That’s a good thing,” McCree said. “We should keep it that way.”

Hanzo shook his head. “I mean that no one at Overwatch knows we’re here. We need to get back to base, quickly. If something happens before we can contact them, no one will know to come looking.”

“But...we can’t just leave her like this. Who’s gonna bury her?”

“There’s nothing you or I can do for her at the moment. We need to alert Overwatch and come back with a full team.”

Reluctantly, McCree agreed. As they left the lab, Hanzo immediately turned to head back the way they had come. He was grateful for the fact that they hadn’t explored too far into the facility; it would only take them a few minutes to backtrack to the cavern entrance. But as they approached a turn in the corridor, a set of voices echoed from somewhere down the halls.

Hanzo stopped in his tracks, listening. The footfalls and sound of conversation came steadily closer, and Hanzo gestured for them to turn around. McCree led the retreat, spinning down a hallway they hadn’t gone through yet. He slid open the door to the first lab they came to, and the two of them ducked inside. This room had yet another operation table, and all the same equipment. But the entirety of one wall was taken up with a massive tank, full of hazy water.

They only had to wait a moment before the voice in the hallway faded. Hanzo breathed a sigh of relief, getting back to his feet so they could be on their way.

Despite the urgency and the close call, McCree remained where he was, staring at the tank. “Wait, wait.”

“McCree, we don’t have time.”

“No, I thought I saw something move.” He approached the tank cautiously, pointing. “Look, someone’s in this one!”

A murky form was barely visible on the far side of the glass. Hanzo squinted, trying to make out the shape, but based on what they had already seen thus far, he had a strong suspicion of what it might be.

The creature in the tank came towards them, and was soon clearly visible even in the less-than-clear water. A man with gills along his neck and ribs, and a muscular fishtail with wide fins. He came straight up to the glass, pressed his palms against it, and stared at the two of them, eyes wide.

“You’re seein’ what I’m seein,’ right?” McCree asked. “Is that...a mermaid?”

Hanzo snorted. “No,it’s a mer _man_. Clearly.”

“This doesn’t make sense! It’s all fairy tale stuff. Mermaids and naga and that angel thing--”

“Siren.”

“--whatever. None of those exist.”

The merman mouthed words at them, but through the glass, Hanzo couldn’t make out anything he might have been trying to say. Hanzo turned a critical eye at McCree, confused. “Do you really believe that only dragons and--” He cut short. As certain as he had been about what McCree truly was, he still didn’t really have any proof. And with as much disbelief as McCree was displaying, then he might not be what Hanzo suspected after all.

“And what?” McCree prompted.

“Nothing.” Hanzo rephrased his thought. “You’ve seen my dragons, and Genji’s. Did you think they were the only mythical beings in existence?”

“Well I--”

The merman suddenly began flailing at them, gesturing wildly and slamming his tail against the glass. Both of them jolted, startled.

“I don’t know what he’s saying,” McCree said. He raised his voice, as if it would help him communicate better. “We’re gonna get you out! Hanzo, gimme a boost, maybe there’s a hatch at the top of the tank.”

“He might be trying to...warn…” Without finishing the sentence, Hanzo spun, too late. He caught the shape of a person standing close -- too close. Something hard cracked the side of his head, and everything went dark.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun DUUUNNNNNN!!!!
> 
> Tune in next time, Same bat-time, same bat-channel for the continuation! 
> 
> ~ Sass


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our heroes find themselves in a dangerous situation.....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost done guys! 
> 
> Thanks to my Big Hanzo Sister, NewFallenLeaves, for allowing me to post this on her behalf. =)

When Hanzo woke up, it was with a headache that pounded far worse than any that plagued him during the molting phase. He kept his eyes closed for a long while, knowing that if he opened them any light that struck his eyes would only make the aching worse. Instead he meditated, silently, getting to know the pain and accept it, allowing it to become a part of him. He focused with it, instead of against it.

The dragons were there, sending soothing tones of light and sound through his mind. Their efforts helped, and soon the dizziness and nausea that accompanied it had faded to tolerable levels.

While he gathered himself, he gained what information he could by sound and sensation. His back was pressed against something cold and metallic, his right arm wrested behind him and strapped in place, his left extended to the side, also immobile. Machinery clicked and hummed around him, and a keypad of some kind gave off a consistent tapping. Someone was in the room with him.

When he felt he could trust his eyes, he opened them carefully, letting them adjust to the harsh artificial light of a laboratory. He was fastened to a table in the center of the room, which was positioned at an incline so that he wasn’t lying completely flat on his back. Though his legs were free, his waist, elbows, and wrists were all clamped solidly down by thick metal cuffs. His left arm, with the elaborate tattoos, had been stretched out to the side, and someone had made marks, circles, and dotted lines in bright blue ink all across the skin. Above him glared more than one set of bright exam lights, like those found in operating rooms, and, just a foot away, a tray laid out with surgical implements and equipment.

A young woman crouched on one of the consoles, cross-legged and oblivious to the fact that she was sitting directly on top of what looked like sensitive equipment. All of her purple-tinged hair was swiped to one side, the other side shaved. She had a device balanced on one of her knees, something small that projected a holographic image in the air in front of her. Her fingertips tapped rapidly in the glowing, suspended grid, and it clicked and whirred and swirled new patterns and information in response.

She smiled at Hanzo through the transparent points of light. “Hey there.”

He grunted, tugging at the restraints.  “Let me out.”

“I needed a console,” she said, ignoring his demand and instead giving answer to a question he didn’t care about. “And you didn’t look like you’d have any objections. Besides, this room had the best view.”

At first, Hanzo craned his neck, wondering where the window was. But the room had none. As he looked back at her, eyes narrowed in confusion, he realized she hadn’t been looking anywhere but at him. He glanced down at himself, stripped of all clothing except his light pants, trussed up and laid out on display.

She winked at him.

Disgusted, he averted his gaze.

The woman laughed. “Don’t be like that. You can’t blame a girl for looking.”

“I won’t ask again,” Hanzo said. “Release me.”

“Maybe,” she shrugged. “But I can’t work for free, you know. If I’m going to do something for you, it has to be worth my while.”

Hanzo frowned at her, frustrated. The last thing he wanted to do was play games. But at the moment, he didn’t have many options. “What do you want?”

“These people already have a lot of intel on you, Shimada Hanzo.” She lingered on the pronunciation of his name, as though it were something special. “You’re a very interesting person.”

“Who are ‘these people’? You don’t work for them?”

Once again, she ignored him. “I’ve always wanted to make a friend at Overwatch, especially someone who has abilities like yours.”

Hanzo remained quiet this time. The woman clearly had no interest in actually conversing with him or giving him any information; she had her own agenda. He waited.

“I could let you out, if you promise to help me get more intel on the rest of the team at Overwatch. I’ve learned so much reading your file here, and your friend’s, I imagine it would be a lot more fun to get the stuff from the actual source.”

“My friend?” Hanzo jolted against the restraints, and the whole table rocked.  _ McCree _ . “Where is he?”

“Don’t know,” she said. “But I could find out. I’m still hacked in, you know. Is it worth something to you?”

Hanzo’s thoughts spun. It was clear by now, from the way she spoke and her mannerisms, that the woman wasn’t responsible for putting him here. She didn’t work for the people who had set up this laboratory, whoever they were, but it also meant she didn’t have any vested interest in him or the situation. In fact the only thing she did seem to show interest in was computer files, which he could see through the holographic monitor were downloading at a rapid pace.

“You’re here to steal information,” he said, the disdain thick in his voice. “You’re a thief.”

She clucked at him with her tongue. “So negative. I prefer to think of it as specializing in discreet acquisitions.”

“Why do you want access to Overwatch?

“Maybe I just like making new friends.”

“Either let me out,” Hanzo growled, “Or leave. I don’t make deals with people who have no integrity or honor.”

“Sorry you feel that way.” She swiped at the air with her hand, and the hologram vanished. Clicking the device to her belt, she hopped off the console. “See you later.” With a pointed glance to the tray of surgical equipment beside the exam table, she gave him a knowing glance. “Or not.”

With a click and a flash of purple light, she vanished.

Hanzo glowered at the empty room, frustrated. He turned his head as far as he could in all directions, straining against the bonds. There was nothing within reach that could assist him. His bow and quiver, clothes, tools, communication device – all were nowhere to be found.

Not wanting to waste any more time, he called to the dragons.

The coloring on his tattoos faded as they sprang into existence. Soba quivered in the air worriedly, while Udon attacked and gnawed at the metal restraint around Hanzo’s left wrist, even before his tail had pulled itself free from the ink lines.

Hanzo thought quickly. If he had been held captive, he had to assume that McCree was as well. He looked to Soba. “Can you find him?”

She was gone before he even fully finished the thought, as concerned and eager to find their friend as he was.

“Udon.” Hanzo shook the restraint, trying to get the little dragon’s attention. Udon froze, his teeth clamped on the metal in mid-chomp. “That’s not going to work. Try something else.”

Shaking his hind legs and tail free from the tattoo, Udon dove beneath the table and proceeded to create a racket. Metal clanged against metal, something made a loud  _ pop, _ the dragon let out a surprised squeak, and one of the lights glaring above Hanzo’s head sputtered out.

“Udon!”

The dragon’s snout popped into view, a partially chewed wire dangling from his teeth, and a curl of smoke rising from its severed edge.

“Quietly, please. We don’t want to attract attention.”

With a snort and an annoyed flick of his ears, Udon ducked out of sight again. Hanzo could still hear him scratching and clawing, snapping wires and banging into things, but the sound was far less pronounced. He sensed more than felt the dragon hovering near his right arm. A moment later came a  _ click _ , something gave, and his hand came loose.

“Well done,” he said. Reaching now on his own, he felt along the side of the table until he found a latch near the band around his waist. Releasing it, he swung his hips off the table. Two more clamps secured his left elbow and wrist, and once he had snapped them open, he was free.

Hanzo took a moment to gather himself. As important as it was that he find McCree and find a way out quickly, it was never a good idea to rush. Rushing created panic, and panic made a person sloppy. He took several deep breaths, reaching out to the dragons and reconnecting with himself. Aside from the blow to the head, he was unharmed. Soba wasn’t far, and she was already giving him the impression that she had picked up on where McCree might be. She could sense him, but it was faint.

Hanzo was torn between relief and worry. Faintness of presence wasn’t often caused by physical distance. It didn’t mean that McCree was far away – on the contrary, the fact that she’d picked up on him so quickly confirmed Hanzo’s suspicions that they had both been captured and detained, and likely in the same area. But it did mean that something could be wrong; he might be injured or unconscious.

With no way of contacting Overwatch for assistance, Hanzo was on his own. He met Udon’s eyes, and saw his own determination reflected there. His dragon swirling over him, Hanzo sprinted from the room, following Soba’s call.

 

\---

 

The layout of the facility was maze-like. Hanzo found himself turning down odd corridors and staircases, blocked sometimes by a locked set of doors or a restricted area. But with a dragon’s senses to guide him, he made few wrong turns. 

He rounded to corner to find Soba hovering expectantly in front of another lab door. Hanzo glanced through the glass window to see a room similar to the one he had been held in, only larger. And instead of a metal operating table in the center of the room, a good three quarters of the room was dedicated to a caged enclosure.

“Both of you, stay with me now,” Hanzo said. Immediately the dragons came to him and coiled themselves around his left arm. Their forms shrank and faded, melding into the inkwork. Taking a breath, he entered the lab.

If not for the dragons, and his own sensitivity to the mystical realm, Hanzo might not have recognized McCree. He crouched in the corner of the cage, his behavior and his entire body drastically different. His torso was elongated, his chest and abdomen wider and almost grotesquely muscled. The joints in his legs and arms had torqued into something more canine, and massive claws sprouted where his toes and fingers should have been. Bat-like pointed ears laid flat against his head, warning that he was agitated. Dark, coarse hair had sprouted over every inch of his body, and he peeled back the lips on his muzzle to bare sickly, yellow fangs.

Hanzo approached the cage door, his palm stretched out. “McCree, you know me. I’m coming in to help, understand?”

The creature snarled and the fur on the back of its neck rippled, but it didn’t move.

Taking that as a good sign, Hanzo unlatched the heavy metal bar that fastened the cage door. He opened it slowly, noting that every tiny creak and grind of the hinges sent the beast’s muscles into quivers of rage. It stalked back and forth suddenly, and Hanzo ceased all movement, not wanting to anger it further. He reached out mentally, trying to get a sense of it, and to help it understand his motives.

Its mind was simpler than that of the dragons. Powerful and raw, it was a creature that operated on the most primal of instincts. Fear, rage, survival – the intensity of it almost made Hanzo take a step back. But giving up ground to a creature like that would only be taken as a sign of weakness.

Instead he pushed the door open further, and stepped inside.

The beast coiled itself against the far wall, growled a single warning, and charged.

“McCree, stop!”

But the creature didn’t stop. It reared up on its hind legs and slammed full speed into Hanzo, pinning him painfully against the bars. Its forearm caught his shoulder, claws impaling and ripping three deep, parallel wounds down Hanzo’s arm.

Hanzo hissed in pain, and shouted as the thing hauled back to strike again. “Jesse!”

The beast halted, teeth inches away from Hanzo’s face. It shuddered, making a sound deep in its throat, something between a snarl and a whine. It shook its muzzle, huffing loudly, chest heaving, as though struggling against instinct.

Hanzo raised his bloodied hand, laid it gently on the beast’s muzzle. “Jesse,” he whispered. “Stay still, and trust me.”

Closing his eyes, Hanzo reached out to the dragons. The responded immediately – to his reach, to the presence of the other mythical creature. Without saying a word, Hanzo conveyed to them what he needed, what he intended.

The dragons – more adept than he – guided him mentally through the tangle of raw power and emotion that defined the beast in front of them. Hanzo could almost see the image in his mind’s eye. An ancient, hungry being, whose rage became overwhelming at the apex of every moon cycle. And underneath that, a mortal man who couldn’t always control, or even communicate with, that other part of himself.

Hanzo reached out, in one part to soothe the vicious creature and sate its fury, in the other to pull forth the man who was lost behind it.

In front of his eyes the creature shrank. Its claws retracted and its tangles of fur vanished. Its eyes opened and instead of the black, soulless glare of a crazed beast, it was the soft brown gaze of the friend he knew.

“Hanzo…” McCree gaze breathlessly at his own hands, seeing the human form again. “What did you do?”

“Tamed a wolf,” Hanzo said.

“Oh God, you’re bleedin’,” McCree cast about the room frantically, and snatched up a discarded lab coat strewn over the back of a chair. He wadded the entire thing against Hanzo’s shoulder where the wound was deepest. The arm looked terrible – skin shredded and muscle exposed, blood dripping at an alarming rate and puddling on the floor. “Shit, I did this, didn’t I? Can you hold it there?”

“I’m fine, don’t fuss.”

“Don’t fuss? You’re leakin’ like a goddamn sieve!”

“Are you all right?”

“Me?” McCree blinked at him. “Whatever you did, yeah, sure’n I’m fine right now. It’s you we should be worried over, hold it  _ tight _ , Hanzo, or else it won’t stop…”

“Don’t move. Either of you.”

They turned their heads in unison to see a man standing across the room. Hanzo had no idea when he might have entered. He wore a lab coat, not unlike the one McCree was attempting to use to staunch Hanzo’s wounds. He pointed an odd-looking gun with a wide barrel at them, but his nervousness was apparent. He tilted his head to talk into a communicator fastened to his ear. “Matriarch? I have a situation here.”

A woman’s voice crackled through the static, ripe with impatience. “ _ What are you bothering me about, Hendricks? _ ”

“Well, the wolf is, ah, somehow, back to normal, and the dragon is here with him.”

A tirade of colorful expletives issued from the speaker. “ _ Who let Shimada loose? I wanted to run that operation myself! _ ”

“I…I have one of the prototypes with me, should I—”

“ _ No! For God’s sake, don’t shoot him, you’ll ruin the entire process. _ ”

As the woman on the speaker and the henchman Hendricks continued to argue, McCree was inching towards the man. Hanzo glared at the back of his head, pouring all his efforts into communicating.  _ Don’t be stupid, don’t be stupid, don’t be stupid— _

But despite having a mythical creature twinned with his soul, McCree seemed to have no practice or ability to sense a mental connection. He lunged for Hendricks.

The henchman squealed in surprise, and skittered backwards. McCree managed to just catch one of his ankles, and they both tumbled to the ground. Hendricks kicked violently with his free foot, the heel of his boot catching McCree in the side of the head. McCree grunted in pain, and instinctively let go.

Hendricks scrabbled to his feet, clicking something on the weapon that activated it and leveling it towards them again. “I swear I’ll hit you both,” he said.

_ Stupid _ , Hanzo sighed inwardly.

The device keened with a high pitched frequency and glowed bright blue. It was unnervingly similar to the same shade of blue that the dragons took on in their corporeal forms. Too similar to be coincidence, Hanzo suspected.

As if to confirm his thoughts, Hanzo felt the familiar tingling as his tattoo markings lit up and writhed. He sensed Soba and Udon, rising and responding to the call even though he hadn’t begun a summons. Whatever the device was, the dragons were drawn to it. He felt their concern, and sent soothing thoughts to alleviate any confusion.

McCree seemed affected by it as well, and was apparently far worse off than Hanzo. His muscles tightened and his hands and knees shook. He ground his teeth and doubled-over, as though the mere proximity of the weapon was causing him physical pain.

He was fighting it, Hanzo realized. And it was at that moment that he understood what the weapon must be, and what it did.

The prototype that Hendricks held in his hand, and the experiments that the lab must be performing, somehow had the ability to access and draw out mythical power, whatever that power might be. That was why McCree had transformed, despite the fact that the full moon had passed days ago and despite the fact that he had been caged in a windowless lab. For McCree, it was transforming him into the savage beast; for Hanzo, it was calling forth the dragons.

Even just standing near the activated device, Hanzo could feel the power rising through him. And while it was strange to have it summoned by something other than his own incantation, the sheer amount and flow of it was not unfamiliar or alarming. McCree, however, was clearly untrained in controlling his own mythical half. Though the weapon hadn’t even been fired, he was practically on his knees, shuddering with the effort to keep that part of himself at bay.

And despite that, he deliberately pushed himself forward, and shielded Hanzo.

Startled, Hanzo stared at him.

“Don’t…let him…hit you with it…” McCree stuttered through gritted teeth. “You should…run…”

That’s what they’d done to him, Hanzo realized. They’d hit McCree with the mythical amplifier, and he’d lost control. And he was afraid it would happen to Hanzo, too.

“No,” Hanzo said. He placed his left hand on McCree’s shoulder, heedless of the blood that he smeared by doing so. He let a portion of the energy pulse through his fingertips and into McCree’s body, seeking out the vicious beast. He found it, just beneath the surface, gnashing for release. With a single thought he calmed it, and sent it to sleep.

McCree gasped and nearly fell, suddenly himself, his eyes clear. Hanzo pushed him gently to the side, and moved slowly, deliberately, toward Hendricks.

Even with a weapon in his hand, the man quaked at the sight of Hanzo – eyes and arm alight, the wet sheen of blood coursing down the side of his body, expression unforgiving.

“Stay where you are,” Hendricks whispered.

“No,” Hanzo said. And took one more step.

Hendricks fired, whether out of desperation or reflex, it didn’t matter. The weapon went off point-blank, and the blast of light and energy that hit him created the strangest sensation. Every part of him that had ever felt the connection to the dragons was suddenly and unbelievably intensified. It wasn’t an annoying headache or itch anymore – now he could actually feel the dragon horns growing from his scalp, curling into being above his head. His pupils narrowed into vertical slits and the dragonsight was no longer vague, fuzzy pictures, but bright, clear, and impossibly detailed. His hair extended into a wild mane, blue glowing runes and symbols lit up across his face, chest, and arms, no longer contained to just a tattoo.

Hanzo stood in the light, almost reveling in it. He raised his left hand and found that with all the sudden energy permeating his body, he didn’t even need to aim an arrow, or recite the incantation.

Soba and Udon, in full demonic form, exploded from his grasp. They twined about each other as they rushed forward, their massive, fully energized ethereal bodies taking up the entirety of the room and then some.

The very air around them seemed to howl as they rushed forward, destroying everything they touched.

Even with the heightened senses, Hanzo didn’t see the moment when the man was swept away. He was there one moment and gone the next, swallowed whole or unmade by the sheer force of the beings that Hanzo harbored.

When the light faded and the dragon forms had vanished, more than just the room was in ruins. A gaping hole trailed through equipment, walls, and even solid rock. At its end was the open sky, and beyond that, the ocean.

“Holy shit,” McCree said.

With the weapon and its light gone, Hanzo could already feel the demonic form fading. The weight of the horns on his head disappeared, and the glowing runes on his skin melted away. He huffed, displeased with himself as he realized something. “I should have tried to save it.”

“What?”

“Overwatch would have wanted the device intact, I’m sure. I should have brought it back for examination.”

McCree gaped at the damage in front of them. “Are you kiddin’ me? I hardly think that’s what you should be worrying about right now.”

“You’re right,” Hanzo turned, intending to head for the room’s exit. “We should look for—”

He barely took half a step before his vision blurred and his knees collapsed from under him. He heard McCree exclaim, and felt a strong arm catch him before he could fall.

Hanzo found it surprising how far away everything seemed all of a sudden, and how heavy and unresponsive his body felt. McCree’s voice was nothing more than a muffled garble in the distance, and he couldn’t seem to raise his head on his own, or form words to reassure McCree that he was perfectly fine. 

Perhaps he had lost too much blood, after all. Or the device could have pushed the limits of his mythical energy further than he thought.  _ Or both _ , a still-functioning-and-reasonable corner of his mind suggested before it, too, went dark and silent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter to go!!! 
> 
> Reviews and kudos are welcome!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes and announcements at the end. Enjoy!

This time when Hanzo woke, he thankfully did not have a headache, and was quite comfortably unrestrained.

He conducted the same meditative exercise he had before, keeping his eyes closed and listening to his surroundings first. The familiar click and whirr of medical machinery told him he was back at Overwatch, in Angela’s infirmary. His arm and shoulder stung, and felt compressed and cottony, so someone had bandaged him. The dragons tickled the back of his mind, pleased that he was awake.

“I never heard a name,” McCree’s voice was saying nearby. “They only referred to her as ‘Matriarch.’”

“What about the man who shot at you?” That was Morrison. Conducting his post-mission reports, no doubt, despite the fact that it had never been an official mission to begin with.

“Hendrickson.”

“I’ll run a search, see if we can track down who he was. Did you run into anyone else?”

“No,” McCree said.

“Yes,” Hanzo answered.

Both men turned in surprise. “You’re awake!” McCree exclaimed, his face breaking into a wide grin.

“Congrats, Hanzo,” Morrison said. “I think you managed to set the record for how fast Angela can stabilize someone.”

“He’s conscious already?” Angela came trotting in. “I did a better job than I thought.”

She busied herself checking Hanzo over – taking his pulse, recalibrating the monitors, adjusting a sensor she had attached to his arm. Hanzo squirmed uncomfortably under the scrutiny.

“So you did run into someone else?” Morrison asked.

“There was a woman there,” Hanzo said. “Hacking the computer system and downloading information. I believe she was there to steal research about their experiments. She claimed to have files on myself and McCree, and tried to blackmail me into giving her more information on Overwatch.”

“Would you be able to log a description for our files?” Morrison asked.

“Later,” Angela gave Morrison a warning look. “The man just woke up. Give him a chance to recover some before you go on with your interrogations.”

“Of course,” Morrison nodded at her, then Hanzo. “I’ll check in later this evening, see how you’re doing then.” He took his leave.

McCree, however, lingered. “Is it okay if I stay? Keep company for a bit?”

“If Hanzo feels up for it,” Angela said.

“I have no objections,” Hanzo said, jolting a little as Angela pinched and prodded a little too close to the bandaged wounds. “I’d like to hear how we got back to Overwatch, anyway.”

“Not much to tell,” McCree began.

“Not much?” Angela interrupted. “After McCree radioed for help, he carried you through most of the torn-apart laboratory and halfway across the island to meet up with the hoverjet.” She gave Hanzo a wink. “And then, once he knew you were stable, instead of letting me check him over and patch him up, he went back in with the rest of the squad to find the other survivors.”

“Don’t make a big deal of it, doc,” McCree said. “I didn’t have injuries for you to check or patch anyway.”

A monitor from one of the adjacent rooms gave a soft _beep_. “I’ve got more people to attend to,” Angela said, cheerfully ignoring him. “I’ll be back in a bit.” With a wave, she left them.

For a moment they were both quiet. Then McCree broke the silence. “So,” he asked, sitting down on the window seat. “How’re your little dragons doing? Do they get tired after blowing holes in buildings?”

Hanzo thought for a moment, reaching for the dragons. They seemed undamaged by the events that had taken place. And, now that McCree was close by and asking about them, they both seemed eager to be around him. “They’re fine,” Hanzo said, holding up his left hand. “They want to say ‘hello.’”

The two dragons coalesced in midair, and Soba immediately floated over to McCree to settle herself in his lap.

“Hey, little lady,” McCree said, pleasantly surprised. He rubbed her head and she thrummed, tail swishing. “Glad to see you’re all right.”

Udon perched momentarily on McCree’s head, snuffling at his bangs and trying to chew his ear. “You too, buddy,” McCree obliged and gave the dragon a scratch under the chin.

Content with that, Udon proceeded to explore the infirmary room in search of a way to entertain himself. He found the nearby bedpan to be extremely interesting, and proceeded to tip it upside-down over himself like a turtle shell. He wriggled along the ground, the pan scraping the floor with him.

“Han…” McCree stared for the longest moment, and Hanzo thought perhaps he wasn’t going to say anything more. But then McCree reached out, the tips of his fingers just barely brushing the new bandages around Hanzo’s shoulder and bicep. McCree took a shuddering breath. “I’m so sorry, I never meant to hurt—”

“There’s no need to speak of it,” Hanzo interrupted, brusquely. “You know as well as I do that it was only because of the influence of the machine.”

McCree shook his head. “That’s the thing, though. Their nasty little machine didn’t turn me into anything that…that wasn’t already there.” He took a deep breath. “Han, I’m—”

“I know,” Hanzo said.

McCree blinked. “Know what?”

“How you climbed the cliff to get to the plane, why you avoided coming to the target range during the full moon, why the machine transformed you the way it did.”

“But…how long have you…?” McCree seemed equal parts incredulous and aghast. “You didn’t turn me in?”

“To whom?”

McCree lowered his voice and gestured around them. “Overwatch.”

Now it was Hanzo’s turn to be surprised. “I thought they were already aware.”

“Nobody’s aware of nothin’! Do you know how long I’ve kept this under the radar? How the hell did you figure it out so fast?”

“I’ve had a connection to the mythical realm my entire life, of course I know another creature of legend when I meet one. The dragons could sense it, too, from the moment we met.” Hanzo frowned. “I assumed that since Overwatch had no objections to my or Genji’s abilities, they were obviously on board with yours as well.”

McCree shook his head violently. “No, and I’d prefer to keep it that way, if’n you don’t mind. I don’t like the idea of my friends and teammates knowing that I can rip their heads off if the lighting’s right.” He leaned back, pensive. “Although I’m wonderin’ if I have the right to endanger them like this. Until yesterday, I could always keep it under control, you know? When the moon is full, I just go off by myself for the night and then no one’s the wiser, no harm no foul. But if there’s someone out there with a weapon than can set me off like that…” He shuddered and looked at Hanzo, his gaze haunted. “I could’ve killed you, if you hadn’t changed me back the way you did. How did you do it? And how come that thing of theirs didn’t affect you?”

“It did.” Hanzo said.

“Well, yeah, it gave you dragon horns and glowy stencils and stuff, but you still sent out the dragons like nothin’ was different.”

“The only difference was that I didn’t need an arrow to loose the dragons. But they were never out of control, and never will be.”

“How can you know that?”

“Because it’s not a matter of control. I do not own the dragons, I am not their master. We have a profound bond, a relationship and an understanding. Drawn to other sources or not, they will certainly never be a danger to anyone whom I deem an ally. They respect my feelings, and out of that respect they care about the same people that I do.”

McCree looked down at Soba, tracing his palm over her head with a newfound awe. “Wish I could say the same for my other half. Your dragon’ll sit in my lap like a kitten, but my wolf doesn’t seem to have respect for nothin’ or nobody. Certainly doesn’t care for who I care about. He nearly ripped you apart.”

“He’s a different creature, of course he won’t have the same attributes of a dragon. But that doesn’t mean you can’t communicate with him, or that he can’t learn and work with you instead of against you.” Hanzo shifted, settling himself more upright against the pillows. “I can teach you. The techniques are not so difficult. Meditation, focus.”

McCree wrinkled his nose. “Sounds boring.”

“Do you want to build trust with your murder-wolf or not?”

“’Course I do, but I’m not as refined as you, Hanzo. I doubt I’m good enough for meditation and deep thinkin’ and all that stuff.”

“First of all, don’t sell yourself short,” Hanzo lectured. “And second of all, it has nothing to do with refinement. It’s more about knowing yourself, having strength of character and strength of will. And it’s obvious to anyone who knows you that you have an abundance of both.” Hanzo nodded. “I’ll show you the first technique. It’s simple, and you don’t need any other training.”

“What, right now?”

“Why not?”

McCree gestured at Hanzo, in the infirmary bed, his entire arm covered in bandages. “Shouldn’t you worry about healin’ up, first?”

“Meditation is beneficial to the body and mind. It will speed the process for me, and the sooner you can learn to communicate with your mythic being, the sooner you will have peace of mind.” Hanzo scrutinized McCree’s expression. The cowboy still seemed unconvinced, and now Hanzo wondered if perhaps he had misread the situation completely. “Unless you really are uninterested. Of course the choice is yours, I would never force such training on you.”

“No, no, I’m interested, I just…” McCree seemed to struggle for the right words. “I…appreciate it, Hanzo. After what I did to you, and you still…wanting to help me.”

“Of course,” Hanzo said, with the smallest of smiles. “What are friends for?”

 

\-----------

 

Not more than a day later, Hanzo had convinced Angela to let him go back to the practice range.

“I’d still prefer you wait until the muscles knit fully,” she had frowned at him. “Those wounds were deeper than you think.”

She’d relented after McCree had offered to accompany him. “I’ve missed a few days of practice myself. I’ll keep an eye on ‘im, and if he so much as strains a pinky finger, I’ll bring ‘im right back over for you,” he’d said with a wink.

So Hanzo found himself with a companion as he made his way out of the compound and across the open grounds to the secluded practice range. McCree chattered next to him, filling the silence. Had it been anyone else, talking so constantly, Hanzo would have been irritated. But having spent the last several days almost exclusively in McCree’s company, he found the timbre and lilt of his voice had become familiar and even welcome. Little more than halfway to their destination, Hanzo halted.

McCree stopped with him, curious. “Don’t you want to target practice?”

“I think I would rather sit out here for a while,” Hanzo said. The evening was beautiful; a pleasant breeze, not too warm, and the sun just on its way below the skyline. A sliver of moon was visible next to a blush-colored cloud. Hanzo set himself cross-legged in the grass, laying his bow to the side.

“Oh, I see,” McCree said. “You were just itchin’ to get out from the infirmary, huh? Can’t say I blame you, I’d’ve probably done the same.” He turned to leave.

“I wasn’t trying to dismiss you,” Hanzo said. “You are welcome to stay.”

“Are you sure? I’m not gonna bother your meditation or nothin’?”

“Not at all. I enjoy conversing with you.”

“Oh. Well then in that case…” McCree flopped enthusiastically next to him, feet splayed and elbows propped on the ground, a stark contrast to Hanzo’s upright, cross-legged stance. “Wanna hear what they found when Winston hacked the tech in the labs?”

“Certainly.”

“Crazy Matriarch lady had a whole list of files on Overwatch personnel. People like us, with the mythical charms, you know. She was keepin’ tabs on ‘em likely, maybe even planning to kidnap for experiments and such, like she did those other poor people we found.” McCree huffed. “But guess who else made the list?”

Hanzo called to the dragons, letting them drift into being from his hand. They deserved to enjoy the evening as much as he.

McCree tracked Soba and Udon with his eyes as they started an aerial game of chase. “You already know, don’tcha? Your liddle ones can sense the other people with mythical creatures.”

Hanzo shrugged. “Tell me anyway.”

“Come on, you gotta guess. I want know if you really do know ‘em all.”

“Very well. My brother.”

“That doesn’t count as a guess. Everybody already knew about you two.”

“Which is why I find it intriguing that everyone else tries to hide what they are.”

“C’mon, Hanzo, not everyone gets to have a shiny, sexy dragon. Some of us get stuck with some uglies. Can you blame them – or me – for trying to keep the nastier sides under wraps?”

Hanzo raised an eyebrow. “You think my dragon half is sexy?”

For what might have been the first time, Hanzo was graced with the privilege of seeing McCree well and truly flustered. His face burned bright red, and when he tried to form a sentence in reply, he actually stammered.

Hanzo rather enjoyed the spectacle – perhaps a bit too much. Because in the next moment McCree’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, and Hanzo realized he hadn’t concealed his amused smirk well enough.

“Don’t be messin’ with me now, Hanzo…” McCree’s voice was all caution. “Are you…are you tryin’ to flirt?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hanzo said, averting his gaze.

McCree moved so quickly, Hanzo didn’t have time to react. The cowboy swung his body up and over, grasped Hanzo’s wrists, and pushed him down into the grass. Hands pinned above his head, hips and legs caught beneath McCree’s wide stance, Hanzo blinked, too stunned to even struggle. McCree peered at him, so close Hanzo could see the flecks of gray in his brown eyes.

“I’ll be goddamned,” McCree’s features split into a grin as Hanzo colored. “You are! Ha! I’ll tell you what, you took me by surprise there for a second, but I’m a quick learner. And now I know how you play the game.”

Eyes sparkling with mirth, McCree released him. Hopping back up to his feet, he dusted flecks of grass off his serape. “So now that you’re feelin’ better – and after that little remark I _know_ you really are – let’s meet up tomorrow night. It’ll give me time to plan somethin’ and we can make a proper night of it. Sound good?”

Not knowing quite what to say, and not trusting his voice to remain steady after the...intimate…moment, Hanzo only nodded.

With the widest and most pleased of grins, McCree sauntered away. He waved without looking back. “See you tomorrow night!”

As McCree walked off, the two dragons floated down to settle on the ground with Hanzo. Soba draped herself serenely across his neck and shoulders, coiling her tail around his upper arm and dropping her chin on his collarbone. Udon tracked a firefly in the grass by Hanzo’s feet, and pounced.

“And a lot of help you were,” Hanzo griped, though he couldn’t keep a tiny smile from forming. “Is that what the two of you do when your human is assaulted? Watch from a safe distance?”

Soba yawned and let her eyes half close, completely unperturbed. Udon dropped the firefly from between his teeth onto Hanzo’s knee and it immediately took flight, unharmed.

Hanzo scratched Udon between his ears, watching McCree’s retreating form and quite enjoying the view. “See you tomorrow,” he whispered.

 

\-- **End Part I** \--

 

_For my little Genji sister, the true McHanzo shipper. ;)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, awesome readers!
> 
> This fic was originally intended to be a single story, as a gift for my little Genji sister, Sasskatt. Since starting the project, it has grown and expanded way beyond what I expected. Therefore! We will be adding Parts II and III as subsequent chapters. Check back soon for the continuation! Updates on weekends.
> 
> As always, thank you so much for the amazing kudos, comments, and bookmarks! You rock!
> 
> \-- NewFallenLeaves (big sister Hanzo)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick update; check in for Part II starting this week. Thanks for reading!

\---- **Interlude** \-----

 

_ “You shouldn’t have come back,” the woman accused. _

_ A familiar figure lay crumpled on the floor beside her, frighteningly still. _

_ “This wouldn’t have happened if you’d stayed away. He’s only here because you were, and you know it. His blood is on your hands, not mine.” She kicked at the prone figure, and his head lolled sideways, showing him who it was…showing him exactly what he didn’t want to see. Someone he cared about…someone he hadn’t wanted to hurt. _

_ “Your fault, not mine,” the voice reminded him. “Your fault, not mine…” _

Hanzo shuddered awake, part of the blanket twisted tightly in his hand. He breathed slowly, trying to quell the adrenaline that had pushed him out of sleep.

Dreaming about what he’d done in the past wasn’t unusual, though the nightmares were slowly becoming fewer and farther between. But this one had been slightly different. Usually his own voice taunted him, but this time it was one he hadn’t recognized. The victim had also changed, although as far as he knew, he’d never caused them harm. It made him wonder if the dream was more of an omen than a bad memory. If that was the case, it didn’t sit well with him at all.

Hanzo rolled on his side, looking at the sleeping form next to him. McCree often kicked off the sheets and blankets during the night, leaving his torso exposed. But for some reason, he buried his head under the pillow instead of resting on top of it. The result was an endearing sight – the usually cocky and strutting man, lying face down on the mattress, his back and legs splayed for all to see but only a few ruffled locks of dark hair peeking out from beneath the puffy fabric.

Hanzo reached for the stray strands of hair, coiling one around his finger and watching it curl against the skin on McCree’s neck. He traced a line with his fingertips down the puckered scars across the gunman’s shoulders and back. The skin pricked in response to his delicate touch, raising goosebumps and causing McCree to mumble and shuffle.

Kicking aside the blankets, Hanzo rolled into a sitting position. Early light peeked through the windows. Morning wasn’t far off and getting back to sleep wasn’t likely at this point.

As he moved, McCree muttered, his voice gruff with sleep. “Han? Wassa matter?”

“Nothing. Go back to sleep.” Hanzo left the tumble of blankets and opened the sliding doors to the balcony. The morning air struck him as he stepped outside, still cold from its brush against the night, and it sent goose bumps prickling across his bare skin. He shivered, but didn’t bother to put on a shirt. The discomfort felt good – felt real – after the terror of the dream.

He crossed the open balcony to stand at the rail, looking out at the beginnings of the sunrise. His breath puffed in the air in front of him, and when it crossed through the bright strands of early pink-and-red light, the vapor looked as though it had caught fire. Hanzo stood quiet, closing his eyes and letting the pre-dawn breeze stir his hair, hoping that the calm around him would seep through to the turmoil inside him.

But he wasn’t alone for more than a few minutes. McCree had apparently decided not to go back to sleep, and instead came padding out to the balcony in his bare feet, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand. “If I fall asleep during the mission tomorrow because of sheer exhaustion, I’m gonna tell the commander that it’s your fault.”

Hanzo didn’t reply and McCree came up to the railing alongside him. Hanzo stood upright, palms resting lightly on the metal bar, while McCree leaned forward, arms draping over the edge, his chin almost cradled in his elbows. He yawned. “Fourth night in a row, you know. You finally gonna tell me what’s been keepin’ you up all week?”

“There’s nothing to tell,” Hanzo said.

“Yea, sure, an’ look, a pig just flew by,” McCree drawled. “Come on, Hanzo, you’re not foolin’ anybody. This mission’s got you all jittery, an’ if you don’t tell me why, then there’s no way I can help.”

“There’s nothing you would be able to help with anyway,” Hanzo said. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a fleeting expression of hurt and rejection pass McCree’s face. Quickly he added, “But I appreciate your willingness to try.”

“’Course,” McCree said gruffly, and Hanzo could tell he was struggling to let the inadvertent insult pass. He seemed to win the battle with himself and raised his arms in a stretch, baring his chest to the morning sun. “Always willin’ to try. But I guess if you think you’ve got it handled, then it’s fine.”

“It’s really just a feeling. Like something on this mission might go wrong.”

“There’s always a chance things could go wrong. Comes with the territory.” McCree gave a crooked, reassuring grin. “Hell, things’ve gone wrong before, but it all works out. We’re professionals.”

“It’s more than that.”

Now McCree looked thoughtful. “Is it because Genji’s comin’ with us?”

Hanzo shook his head, trying to sort out his thoughts. Where Genji was concerned, Hanzo always harbored guilt, regret, and worry. It made sense that he would be more apprehensive about the mission, since it was the first time he and Genji would be working together since Hanzo’s recent acceptance into Overwatch. And if his dream had been the familiar one – about what had happened between the two of them – he would have agreed with McCree. But something else nagged at him about this assignment. “Yes and no,” he said. “Everything about this assignment feels…very close to home.”

“I thought it wasn’t gonna take us too near Hanamura.”

“Closer than I’ve been in a year. The location is  _ my _ home and the team is  _ my _ brother and  _ my _ …” With a quickly averted glance at McCree, he let the last word trail away. “It makes me worry that something will happen simply because of me.”

“You’re always too hard on yourself. Why do you think somethin’ bad’s gonna happen just ‘cause you’re there?”

Hanzo let the silence sit for what felt like a long time. Then, finally, he said, “Karma, perhaps. I’m not a good person, Jesse.”

“Are you serious?” McCree stared, incredulous. “What the hell kinda bullcrap attitude is that?”

“It’s truth, that’s all. I don’t deserve to have this trust…including me in the mission like this. I don’t deserve to have you, or anyone, think so well of me.”

“If that’s what you think of yourself, what the hell do you think of me?”

Now it was Hanzo’s turn to look startled.

“You did somethin’ horrible, so what? As if the rest of us are perfect saints. But you were pressured into yours, lousy family rules that they are, and at least Genji is still alive. In case you hadn’t noticed, he forgave you a long time ago. Me, on the other hand – the people I hurt aren’t comin’ back, they  _ can’t  _ forgive me. And it wasn’t just once. If your loathing is so stringent that you can’t bear yourself, then I don’t know how you can even stand to glance in my direction.”

“That’s not—”

“Yea, yea, ‘that’s not what you meant, it’s not the same.’ Heard all those excuses before, you aren’t the only one who tries to make ‘em.” McCree sighed. “Look, if it really worries you that much, we can tell the commander. I’m sure he wouldn’t have a problem switchin’ someone else to the assignment. He trusts your intuition, anyway. But I gotta tell you, Han, I’m gonna feel a whole that better with you coming,  _ because _ it’s you.”

Hanzo turned his head to meet McCree’s gaze, and saw all the things there that he didn’t deserve. Confidence, acceptance, admiration, affection…it almost made him heartsick to think that McCree trusted him so much, but it also made him all the more grateful for it.

“Hey, I know,” McCree suddenly straightened. “Wait right there!”

Hanzo watched, bewildered, as McCree practically sprinted back to the bedroom and proceeded to rummage through one of the dressers, making an amount of noise that was inappropriate for the early hour. When he came trotting back, he had a small wooden box in his hand.

“I was gonna wait until next week to give you this,” McCree said, proffering the box. “You know, three month anniversary and all…but you seem like you need some cheerin’ up now, so…here you go!”

Bewildered and flattered, Hanzo opened the unadorned box to find a folded ribbon of cloth, made of soft material in muted colors.

“I know how you like the serape,” McCree launched into an explanation quickly, “So I took one of my old ones and asked Angela if she could cut and sew a piece of it. It’s for when you tie up your hair. I know you’ve got your own ribbony things for it, but I figured, if you want to change it up sometime…”

“Jesse…”

For a moment, McCree looked worried, and Hanzo berated himself for always being so serious-faced. Even his closest companions seemed to constantly mistake his default state of emotion to be displeasure. He quickly placed a reassuring hand on McCree’s arm. “Thank you.”

McCree smiled, his face coloring just a bit, and he tried to wave away the significance of it. “Just a token, nothin’ fancy. As long as you like it.”

“I do.” Hanzo thought quickly, “And I would like you to have something, too.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’m not expectin’ nothing.”

“I know,” Hanzo said. It was true – McCree was just that kind of person, always willing to give and help, no strings attached. And he deserved something for that ever-present kindness, if nothing else. Hanzo turned back into the bedroom, with McCree trailing behind.

Placing the box with the serape ribbon on the nightstand, Hanzo opened the lowest drawer, which housed some of his own personal affects. He withdrew a corded necklace with a circular metal pendant, cut in a swirling kanji pattern. He handed it to McCree.

“Neat,” McCree said, holding up the pendant and watching it turn slowly on the end of the cord. “I like it. What is it?”

“The Shimada crest. Only members of my family are allowed to wear them.”

“Oh.” A look of uncertainly passed over McCree’s face. “Are you sure you should be givin’ me one, then? I’m about as far removed from a Shimada as you can get.”

“It has nothing to do with whether or not you’re a Shimada. I’d like you to have it because I…consider you a part of my family.”

For a moment they were both quiet. Hanzo, shy from the open admission, and McCree, flustered and flattered by the implication. Luckily for both of them, Udon broke the awkward moment by leaping from the pile of clothing on the floor and snatching at the shiny metal piece with his claws.

“Whoa, there!” McCree exclaimed, catching the crest in his hand before Udon could get a hold on it. “Go find your own shinies, buddy, this one’s mine.” He slid the cord over his head, settling the trinket around his neck. He grinned. “Thanks, Han. I promise I’ll take good care of it. And hey! Now you’ve got nothin’ to worry about for the mission, huh? We each got a lucky charm.”

“I suppose so,” Hanzo said. If that was how McCree wanted to think of it, perhaps things would work out after all.


	9. Chapter 9

**Part II - Wolf**

 

“No new intel has come in since your debriefing yesterday,” Morrison said. “I was hoping we’d be able to narrow down the area, but no such luck.”

“That’s all right,” McCree said. “Slim lead is better than no lead at all.”

He fiddled with the clip on his holster, eager to be off. Ever since the discovery of the secret lab on Overwatch grounds, he’d wanted to have another stab at finding the person who ran it. He and Hanzo had infiltrated the place, discovering gruesome experiments and even being subjected to a few themselves. McCree shuddered to remember how the weapon they’d used on him – a beam of light that drew out the mythical beast he harbored and overrode all his control and humanity. They’d learned nothing about the person responsible, except that she was known as the Matriarch. Even after searching the remains of the ruined lab and hacking the computers, they’d learned little else. For months it had been on the back burner of the Overwatch operations, until Morrison had come to them a week ago with something interesting.

“I found a connection to the goon you ran into,” Morrison had informed them. “He worked for a few years in Japan, in an experimental tech lab with minimal staff and high-level clearance. Records say the place was dismantled a few years ago, but you know how these things can go. They might still be operating under the radar. I’d like to send a team in to investigate, maybe find more leads that will take us to the Matriarch.”

McCree latched the holster, bringing himself back to the present. That team consisted of himself, Hanzo, and Genji, and they were scheduled to leave within the hour.

Hanzo and Genji stood in the room with him, both of them rigid. Hanzo was always a little rigid, McCree thought fondly. And Genji was mostly metal and plating at this point, so there was the reason for that. But while he knew all about Hanzo’s worries and reservations about working beside his brother, McCree also knew they were misplaced. Genji was just as eager to take on this project, and McCree had a good feeling that even if the lead turned out to be a dead end, Hanzo would at least be able to have a positive experience working with his brother. Hopefully, it would alleviate some of the guilt he seemed constantly plagued by.

Morrison gestured at the brothers. “You two know the area best. I trust your judgment as to how far you want to extend the search. Genji, I want you to defer to Hanzo and McCree when it comes to engaging hostiles. If you do encounter the Matriarch or any of her cohorts. they have the most experience, seeing as they’re the ones who discovered her lab in the first place.”

Genji nodded. “We’ve discussed it, Commander.”

“Good. The skimmer will drop you off outside the city, as requested. Find out what you can, if you come across anything significant, call for backup."

As they boarded the skimmer, the wind from the engines picked up the cloth tied around Hanzo’s hair, sending it dancing through the air. McCree recognized the soft serape ribbon he’d given him and grinned.

Hanzo caught him smiling. “What?”

“Nothin’,” McCree said. “I like your hair today.”

Hanzo averted his gaze to hide the rush of color, but seemed pleased nonetheless. McCree touched a hand to his tunic, where underneath  rested the Shimada necklace Hanzo had given him in exchange. They both had worn their lucky charms for the mission – McCree took it as a good sign.

Genji hopped into the skimmer beside them, making virtually no sound as he landed, despite the fact that his feet were plated steel and so was the floor. “Ready?” he asked.

“Let’s do it,” McCree said, gripping a handhold near the ceiling.

 

\----

 

The flight took a few hours, even by skimmer speed. Genji powered down during a good portion of the journey, taking advantage of the respite to gather some rest. Hanzo had meditated for a bit, and McCree was glad when he finally opened his eyes and came out of his trance. He tucked away the playing cards he’d been holding, not caring that he hadn’t completed the solitaire round yet.

“Hey,” he said, shifting to a seat closer to Hanzo. “I thought you meditated before we left. How often you gotta do that stuff anyhow?”

“I told you,” Hanzo chastised, “The more often the better. When are you going to take my advice like a good student?”

McCree rolled his eyes. Since their misadventure in the lab, Hanzo had been trying to teach him meditation techniques as a way to help get in touch with his mythical half. The trouble was, McCree’s mythical beast was nothing like Hanzo’s dragons. The dragons were intelligent and helpful, even downright cute in most circumstances. Hanzo could actually communicate with them, and vice versa. McCree’s wolf, however, was a surly, angry thing that seemed to have no interest in communication whatsoever. It took over McCree completely during every full moon, going on rampages that forced him to isolate himself for a day or two. Afterward it retreated into the subconscious, as Hanzo called it, and McCree had no idea how to start a conversation with a creature like that.

“You know I’ve tried,” McCree argued. “The wolf just ignores me, like always. Full moon comes out, he takes over, does his own thing, and then that’s it.”

“Have you tried to communicate with him at times other than the full moon?”

“No. Should I?”

Hanzo huffed. “That’s what the meditation is for.”

McCree thought about it for a moment. He’d assumed that the only way to communicate with the wolf would be when it was active. The dragons could take form and interact with them at any time, on a daily basis if they wanted. That had made sense to him why Hanzo seemed to meditate constantly. But the only time his wolf ever seemed to be around was during the full moon, so he’d limited his attempts at meditation to those times, when he went off on his own.

“If you’d let me, I could come with you during the full moon,” Hanzo said. “I could help—”

“Hell, no! You remember what happened last time? Stupid wolf tried to slash you to pieces, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it. I ain’t takin’ that chance again.”

“I’m sure it wouldn’t be the same. That was a different situation. You were under the influence of the weapon, not the natural occurrence of the lunar cycle.”

“You’re not gonna change my mind, Han.” McCree folded his arms stubbornly.

Hanzo sighed. “Then will you at least promise to try some of the techniques at a different time?”

“I dunno. What if pokin’ at him when he’s asleep makes him mad? What if he goes on a rampage during the day because I tried messin’ with tactics I don’t understand? I’m no good at that stuff like you are.”

“You could be, if you try. You have more intuition than you think.”

“I _have_ , I told you, it’s like I don’t exist to him.”

“If you haven’t attempted all avenues of communication, then you haven’t truly tried at all. You need to make an effort to understand all his habits and behaviors, not just the ones you see during the apex. There has to come a point where you can share the same frame of mind.”

McCree frowned. “We don’t have much in common, like you do with the little dragons. They’re smart like you, probably makes it easy. But my mythic? He’s just a rampaging, out of control, vicious—”

“Stop.” Hanzo gave him a stern glare. “How you can expect to create any kind of relationship with your creature when you have no respect for it?”

“Hey, I never asked to get saddled with a nasty wolf.”

“Few of us ever ask for such things. We are born, or cursed, or gifted with whatever creatures fate sought to give us. But once bonded, there is no going back. You either learn to coexist with your mythical self, or you will forever be at odds with it.”

“Well, maybe not all mythics can play nice and be reasoned with.”

“If you have so little regard for mythical creatures, how do you feel in my presence?” Hanzo challenged.

Now McCree was irritated. He’d been looking for a pleasant conversation with Hanzo to pass the time, not a lecture. “Don’t go twistin’ my words, that ain’t fair. You know I don’t think that way about you or the dragons.”

“If you think that way about that part of yourself, then it applies to other mythics as well.”

“Are you just tryin’ to pick a fight because you’re tired and irritable? I know you haven’t been sleeping well, but that’s no excuse to go takin’ your temper out on anybody else.”

“I’m not being temperamental,” Hanzo said defensively. “You’re the one too stubborn to give the meditation a chance.”

“Yeah? How about you bein’ too stubborn to admit when you’re bein’ pushy and surly? Let’s face it, what works great for you might not work for somebody like me at all. Not everybody gets born privileged into rich and powerful families with _two_ dragons in your corner, all perfect and talented and in tune with themselves.” The moment the words left his tongue, McCree regretted them. Hanzo’s upbringing hadn’t been all peaches and daisies. In fact, it had led to some of the most difficult circumstances and heartbreaking choices a person could be pushed into.

But it was too late to take back the words now. Hanzo’s face darkened, and he turned away.

McCree berated himself. The last thing he wanted was to start the mission on the wrong foot, especially after Hanzo had been feeling apprehensive about it to begin with. “Aww, hey, listen, I—”

Genji stepped into the small passenger area, interrupting them. “We’re here,” he said.

 

\-----------------

 

The skimmer slowed, hovering just above the ground. The bay doors opened, allowing them to disembark when they were ready.

Hanzo stood before the open doors, one hand braced on the bulkhead above him, the curve of his arm accentuated by his taut muscles. Wind from the engines picked up the cloth around his hair and buffeted the hem on his tunic, exposing more of his bare chest. McCree took in the sight, wishing for a moment that they weren’t on a mission. That they were back at headquarters, alone, where he could apologize and make amends in…pleasant ways…

Then Hanzo leaped to the ground, and the moment of reverie was past. Genji clapped a metallic hand on McCree’s shoulder, startling him. “After you,” he said.

The skimmer left them after the pilot confirmed the pickup location and time. This mission wasn’t slated to be a long one – they would spend the next twelve hours scouting the shut-down lab and following a few leads that Morrison had given them about addresses and locales that might be relevant. As the skimmer dwindled into the distance, its choppy engines fading, McCree shaded his eyes and gazed over the city spread out before them. They were just on the outskirts, and the architecture and structures looked statuesque in the distance.

“I was thinking we can cover the points more quickly if we split up,” Genji suggested. “I can start in the eastern district while the two of you head north.”

McCree eyed him, wondering if he was making the suggestion on purpose. The eastern district was closer to his and Hanzo’s home of Hanamura – it would likely make Hanzo more comfortable to stay farther away from that area. And while Morrison had also given them leads in the southern region of the city, Genji hadn’t suggested that they split into three groups, which would keep Hanzo and McCree together.

_Well played,_ McCree thought. Even with all the years they’d spent apart, it seemed that Genji was more in tune with his brother’s moods than even Hanzo realized. “Sounds good to me,” McCree quickly agreed, before Hanzo could make an argument against it.

The archer tried anyway. “If we are going to divide, we should cover all the leads at once.”

“The lab will most likely be where we spend the most time and need the most thorough work. We should meet there all together after we scout the other two locations.” Genji was already moving away from them. “Rendezvous in four hours?”

“Four hours it is!” McCree waved, pleased that he would be able to spend the next several hours with Hanzo. Maybe Genji had caught on to the vibe in the skimmer, and was giving them time to make amends. But when he turned, it was to see Hanzo with a sour expression.

“Don’t assume that the two of you can make decisions without my input,” he said. “Then again, you seem to make a habit out of ignoring my advice.”

“Oh, come on, Han, don’t be like that,” McCree said.

“Go get a head start in the southern district,” Hanzo said, turning his back. “We’ll meet up in four hours, like Genji suggested.”

McCree sighed as Hanzo stalked off. So much for apologizing. As he headed in his assigned direction, he wondered if maybe the time apart would be a good thing. Hanzo could blow off some steam and then when they reconvened things would go more smoothly. “This is your fault, you know,” he grumbled, thinking of the wolf and wishing he could tell it to the creature somehow directly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus the second story arc begins! I'm super excited to share the continuation of the story. Thank you all for joining us, awesome readers!  
> \-- NewFallenLeaves (elder Shimada sister)


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As McCree begins his mission he learns that not all is as it seems....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please take a pause to note the rating change, and any updated tags. Thanks!

The southern district was a ways off. Preoccupied with his own thoughts, McCree meandered through a crowded market street. He supposed he should be more proactive, getting to his destination quickly and efficiently, making sure not to waste valuable time on the mission. But the exchange with Hanzo had left him frustrated, and the assignment wasn’t particularly time-sensitive anyway. They’d been given more than enough leeway to cover all the bases, and with Genji’s suggestion to split up, they would likely be done with their searches in less than half the time.

So he didn’t hurry, and instead let the natural flow of people around him determine his pace. He might have even been able to enjoy the vibrant setting had the circumstances been different. The street bristled with colorful stalls and tents, each of them stocked fruit, meat, and vegetables, goods and wares. Vendors called out, clusters of families and friends chattered, customers bargained. The air was filled with the scent of food and spices, and underneath it all the salty tang of air from the nearby bay.

Abruptly, hairs prickled on the back of McCree’s neck. He paused, casting about, wondering where the shivery feeling might have come from. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The crowd jostled, a dog skipped between people’s legs with a stolen scrap of meat while a vendor shouted at him, a father bounced his wailing infant in an attempt to quiet him, twin girls ran circles around their mother’s feet while she bargained.

A sound like a firecracker went off somewhere up ahead. Like everyone else in the crowd, he turned towards the sudden noise. People yelled and pointed to an ominous curl of smoke rising over the rooftops.

Someone right next to him screamed and McCree spun, wondering how they could be so alarmed at something so far away. But the woman wasn’t looking towards the noise or the smoke at all, like everyone around her. Instead she shrieked something he couldn’t understand, clutching one of her twins and pointing desperately in the direction opposite the disaster.

McCree followed the curve of her arm, confused as to what could be happening behind them. He caught a glimpse of a burly man running in the opposite direction from the crowd, a crying, frightened child slung over his shoulder – a child who looked suspiciously identical to the daughter the mother was clutching.

Catching onto the situation all too quickly, McCree pelted after the runner, shouting. “Hey!” He barreled through people all pushing in the opposite direction, most of them too distracted by the commotion and smoke from up ahead to take notice of the chase. And it made sense, McCree realized grimly – what better opportunity for a kidnapper than to use a convenient distraction to make his getaway?

But McCree had no intention of letting him get away with it. The man wasn’t so far ahead, and had the circumstance been different, McCree could have easily downed him with a single shot from his revolver. But the street was too crowded, and he would never want to risk hitting the child. Instead he lengthened his stride and sped faster, gaining with every step.

The man spun down an alley, away from the main thoroughfare, McCree only a stride behind. With a leap, McCree tackled him, taking his knees out from under him and sending all of them sprawling. The little girl shrieked as she fell, tumbling away from them and scraping her knees and elbows. The kidnapper yelled and scrabbled to get his feet back underneath him, reaching for the girl.

McCree grabbed at his ankles and hauled, pulling him away from her. “Run!” he shouted.

Smart girl that she was, she seemed to understand exactly what McCree had done and how to take advantage of it. She scrambled to her feet and was off like a shot, leaping over both of them and disappearing back into the crowd.

Still on the ground, McCree grappled with the thug. The man aimed a kick at his head, and McCree released his hold and rolled out of the way. They were both back on their feet in an instant, and the thug charged him, not bothering to draw a weapon. Instead he swung a punch, swearing.

“Who do you think you are?” he demanded. “This isn’t your business!”

“I just made it my business,” McCree said, turning so the blow only glanced off his shoulder. He swung back.

The kidnapper dodged, then spun on his heel and ran.

“Hey! I’m not through with you,” McCree pelted after him. If he got away, he might try snatching another child. McCree could log a report and description with Overwatch, but it was no guarantee that the man would be caught in time to prevent a second kidnapping attempt. But if McCree could bring him in now…

The man skittered around another corner, and McCree slowly realized that the sound of the crowds had faded no practically nothing. They had left the busy, populated marketplace behind and were dashing between dilapidated, abandoned buildings along the old wharves. As he twisted down yet another alley, a tiny warning pushed itself to the front of McCree’s mind. About how chasing down a criminal into what was clearly a dangerous and unsavory part of town with no plan and no backup was often ill-advised.

The man ducked out of sight between two collapsing houses and when McCree dashed after him, he realized just how far away from the crowds he’d gotten, and how alone he was out here. But by then it was too late.

Waiting for him to come around the corner was the kidnapper, with a smug smile on his face. And beside him loomed an absolutely massive omnic.

It looked like a scavenged and modified version of an OR-15A, with extra guns, arms, and legs. Sporting a swiveling turret, a rocket launcher on each shoulder, and a grenade kicker – all of which looked well beyond what would have been reasonable or legal – it locked its beady targeting eyes on McCree and jilted forwards.

No longer concerned with crowds or people, McCree drew his gun and unloaded four rapid shots point-blank at the machine. It kept coming, unimpeded, and McCree glowered with the realization that its armor plating had been upgraded as well. He aimed more carefully, this time looking to disable its eyes.

Two perfect shots shattered the lights on its head, but it stomped forward anyway. Reaching with a massive, clamped arm, it swiped at McCree.

He rolled to the side, reloading as he went and firing again as he came up. Two shots cracked into the joint on its rear leg, a third drew sparks from the swiveling turret, ensuring that it could no longer fire.

But the omnic wasn’t even attempting to fire any of its weaponry at McCree. It turned, ignoring the leg that was now dragging, and reached again with its arms. He spun out of the way once more, but not before the omnic caught the edge of his serape. The cloth pulled, threatening to yank McCree into the creature’s grip. He shed the garment, tumbling free and re-aiming, this time for one of the shoulder joints.

His shot went wide as the omnic threw the serape back at him, momentarily blocking his view. It barreled forward again, and McCree backed up rapidly, swearing to himself. The thing wasn’t trying to kill him – it was trying to  _ catch _ him. The longer he drew out the fight and lingered, the better its chances were. He didn’t think he wanted to stick around to find out what would happen if it did manage to latch onto him.

McCree didn’t like not being able to finish a fight, but he also knew when it was better to quit while he was still ahead. Holstering his gun, he ducked underneath another swipe of the omnic’s grasp, and made a break for the end of the alleyway.

He came out of his dodge only to find the thug blocking his path. With a smirk, he drove the heel of his hand into McCree’s face.

McCree managed to get his arms up in time to deflect some of the force of the blow, but he still took a hit and staggered back a step. The next thing he felt was the omnic’s arm clamping around his torso, pinning his left arm to his side and crushing his ribs in a vice. It swung him sideways, slamming him into the side of the building and pinning him there.

“Ha!” the thug shouted. “Hold him there, cease all motor functions.”

The omnic froze in place, immobile at the command. 

“Now who’s calling the shots, uh?” the thug pushed his face close to McCree. “Think you can interfere with the clan and get away with it? You’re mine, now.”

McCree spat, catching the man full in the face. “Too bad you weren’t man enough to do it on your own. Snatchin’ helpless little kids and then hidin’ behind an omnic. You’re a coward.”

The kidnapper swiped the spittle from his chin, his face burning crimson. He pulled a knife from his belt, and tapped its serrated edge against McCree’s ribs. “I’ll gut you for that, asshole.”

“Mori!” A deep voice barked, “The hell are you doing?”

Mori jumped away as though he’d been burned, sheathing his knife, his demeanor suddenly defensive. “I had one!” he said. “I had one, I was bringing her back, and this asshole got in the way!”

McCree craned his neck, trying to peer around to the massive form of the omnic at who could cause such a change in behavior. Another thug, wearing the same dark clothing as Mori, strode into view.

Thug Two was huge. Even hanging as he was in the omnic’s grasp, his feet six inches off the ground, McCree had to look up at the man. McCree was willing to bet that he could rival Reinhardt’s stature  _ without _ the armor. “Hi there, Tiny,” McCree said, unable to keep a small smile off his face at his own joke.

Tiny eyed him skeptically. “Who’re you?”

“Let me down, I’ll introduce myself proper.”

Mori appealed to Tiny. “Let me just get rid of him, then I’ll finish the job.”

Tiny shook his head, eyeing the damage to the omnic. “You’re telling me you lost an asset, scuffed up a unit,  _ and _ brought an outsider to our doorstep in the same afternoon? You’re not going to get many more second chances, Mori.”

“If it hadn’t been for him, everything would’ve gone fine!”

“Well, it didn’t. Now you’re going to have to tell—” Tiny stopped mid-sentence, peering at McCree. “The hell is that?”

McCree glanced down self-consciously. His serape was long gone, his shirt torn in more than one place by the omnic. The necklace Hanzo had given him glittered against his skin.

Tiny snatched up the crest in his hand and yanked the chain loose. He stared at the symbol, incredulous. “Where did you get this?”

“Hey,” McCree protested. “You just gonna take my personal stuff?”

“Where did you get it?” Tiny demanded.

“None of your goddamn business!”

Mori’s face had paled, and he was staring wide-eyed at the necklace. “I didn’t know he had that, I swear!”

“Relax,” Tiny said, though he maintained a frown. “He can’t possibly be a clan member. But Lady Shimada is going to want this back, and an explanation as to why you have it.”

McCree’s stomach dropped at the mention of the name ‘Shimada.’ These common thugs not only recognized Hanzo’s family symbol, but seemed to have personal ties with the family as well. Which meant they weren’t common thugs at all. And if they were connected to the famous house of assassins, McCree might have just stumbled into more of a mess than he should have. “I ain’t gonna explain anything,” he growled.

Tiny gave him a dangerous look. “You will. Eventually, you will.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Little Genji Sister here. Thank you oh so much for all the kudos, and comments, and bookmarks! My Big Sis Hanzo and I cannot express the amazing gratitude we have for all of you. <3 
> 
> There's more to come - don't you worry! We sisters are on it!
> 
> ~ SassKatt (Little Genji Sister)


	11. Chapter 11

 

Not bothering to disentangle McCree from the omnic, the two thugs simply had the thing carry him inside the building through a massive set of crumbling hangar doors. As the doors scraped open, McCree wondered that they didn’t fall off their hinges. Once inside, however, the building wasn’t nearly as decrepit as its exterior, and McCree became more convinced that the goons really were tied to the wealthy and infamous Shimada house.

The building was a front for omnic production of some kind. Mechs and omnics lined the walls, work tables were cluttered with parts and weapons, every piece stripped clean of manufacturing marks for black market trade.

But weapons and omnics weren’t the only thing in the factory. Tiny rummaged through a bin, pulling out the largest, heaviest, most overkill restraining cuffs McCree had ever laid eyes on. The monstrosities looked like two rounded, metal cylinders which could completely encase the wearer’s hands and extend up to the elbow. 

“Seriously?” McCree asked.

Tiny shrugged at him. “Meant for omnics, bigger than you, obviously. It’ll do for now.” He wrenched McCree’s free hand and twisted it painfully at the elbow so McCree couldn’t resist while he clamped the massive cuff in place. Only after it was secured did he tell the omnic to release its grip, and when McCree dropped awkwardly to the ground, Tiny quickly fastened his other arm in place.

The cuffs linked together, which kept McCree’s elbows locked uncomfortably close in front of his chest and his shoulders hunched forward. He was glad that hey hadn’t decided to shackle the device behind him, or else it might have been more painful than uncomfortable.

Mori relieved McCree of his weapon, holster, and ammunition, and seemed to take delight in pointing McCree’s own weapon at him. “Move it.”

They led him down a flight of stairs at the back of the building, and into a basement hallway that was impossibly long. McCree peered down the narrow corridor, ducking to keep his head from hitting the ceiling, and trying to see the end of the hallway. He couldn’t.

Tiny shuffled ahead of him, practically bent in half at the waist to fit down the passageway. The walls were damp and the ceiling dripped, and McCree could smell salt and the ocean. The tunnel was taking them under the bay; his sense of trepidation deepened.

Across the bay was the wealthy city district. If Shimada house headquarters were anywhere, it would be there. They were taking him straight into Hanzo’s home territory. And seeing as both Hanzo and Genji had denounced their family, McCree didn’t think that was a good thing.

McCree wasn’t sure what he was expecting when they finally reached the end of the tunnel. To be ushered into the palatial home where the Shimadas resided and paraded in front of their clan leader, perhaps. Instead they simply exited the passageway in another basement, although this one was significantly less damp and better kept than the one on the other side of the wharf. Tiny and Mori didn’t bother to take him much farther than that.

They stopped in front of a wooden door and Tiny opened it to reveal an empty storeroom. It had concrete walls and floors, with shelving built into three of the four walls. There were no windows or other points of entry, and a single overhead light bulb hung from a short wire.

Tiny attached a massive chain to the cuffs, with links as wide as McCree’s boot. “Oh, come on now, don’t you think that’s a little much?” McCree asked. He rattled the chain to test its weight, which was considerable. “Just with these arm pinchers I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

“I told you,” Tiny said, padlocking the end of the chain to a metal grate set in the center of the floor, “We’re used to dealing with bigger and badder stuff than you.” He handed McCree’s necklace to Mori. “Take this to Lady Shimada, and tell her what happened. I’ll try to get some answers out of him first, so we have something to give her when she comes.”

Mori looked distraught. “Maybe you should be the one to talk to her. Besides, I caught him, I should be allowed to finish—”

“Get going."

Sulking, Mori took the necklace and slammed the door shut behind him.

“Now you and I get to spend some quality time together,” Tiny said, pocketing the key.

“Look, I’m flattered, but I already have a—” McCree lost the end of his sentence as Tiny slammed a fist into his gut. He doubled over, gasping.

“Lady Shimada is going to want to know who you are, why you’re here, and why you’re wearing the family crest.” This time Tiny swung at McCree’s head. McCree raised the gauntlets to shield himself, but the weight of them made his motion too slow, and he took a nasty blow to the jaw. He staggered sideways.

“So tell me,” Tiny said, throwing another punch.

This time McCree dodged, jumping sideways, and only suffered a glancing hit to his shoulder. He skittered as far as the chain would allow, trying to put some distance between them as Tiny stalked him around the perimeter of the room.

“Tell me,” Tiny said, and lunged.

McCree retreated, but he misjudged the amount of slack on the chain and couldn’t back up as far as he wanted. Tiny’s blow caught him in the ribs, and McCree felt something crack. He barked with pain and glowered. “I can tell you I’m gonna kick your ass if you keep pushin’ me.”

Tiny didn’t hesitate or slow one bit. He jabbed for McCree’s throat.

McCree threw up his arms to block, quick enough to deflect the blow this time. Finally getting a feel for the weight of the cuffs and the chain, he tried to use the momentum to continue his swing, swiping at Tiny’s head.

The man caught his arms and held on, keeping McCree from being able to escape while he delivered a series of punches to his stomach. After a moment he let go and smiled as McCree stumbled, doubled-over and heaving.

“If you tell me everything now, I promise not to break  _ all _ your bones.”

“Well ain’t that kind,” McCree gasped, regaining his balance. “How about instead, you unlock me and I promise not to strangle you.”

Tiny’s only response was to aim another punch at McCree’s midriff. McCree slapped it aside with the heavy cuffs, then stepped close inside Tiny’s range of motion. Bracing himself against the man’s knees, McCree drove the metal gauntlets into Tiny’s side and shoved hard with his shoulders, barreling them both into the wall.

Slamming into the shelving didn’t have the effect on Tiny he’d hoped it would. The man merely grunted and took the blow in stride, grappling with McCree the entire time. He wrapped McCree in a massive bear hug, crushing tight, then slammed him to the ground.

Without the use of his arms to break his fall, McCree crashed to the floor, cracking his head against the concrete. The weight of the thug on top of him drove all the breath from his lungs. For a moment he saw nothing but white light. When the world came into focus again, Tiny had pulled him upright and had his hands wrapped around McCree’s throat.

Desperate, McCree pulled up his knees and kicked out with both feet. His heels caught Tiny in the face and he felt the man’s nose crunch. Tiny released his grip immediately and staggered backward, blood spouting down his face.

Breathing hard, McCree skittered to the other end of the room, taking advantage of the brief respite.

Tiny glowered at him, swiping the blood from his mouth and chin. “I should break your face for that."

McCree rattled the chain. “Come on and try it.”

It wasn’t an empty taunt. The length of chain coiled loosely on the floor across the center of the room, and it had given McCree an idea. He took a step sideways, hoping to guide Tiny’s next few steps when he came forward to attack again. The man clearly had the advantage in size and strength and was going up against an opponent who was limited in mobility. McCree hoped it would make him overconfident and stupid, and disregard his surroundings.

It did.

Tiny stalked forward again, taking a wide step over one of the slack loops of chain.

McCree yanked on the gauntlets, pulling the chain tight against the back of Tiny’s ankle and setting him off balance for just a moment. McCree charged, ducking his head, aiming for the man’s stomach. He plowed forward before Tiny could reset his footing and they both tumbled.

As soon as they were down, McCree rolled, pulling as much of the chain’s slack as he could. He looped it over Tiny’s head, braced his knees against the man’s shoulders, and yanked.

The noose tightened perfectly. Tiny choked and gasped, flailing on the concrete. He scrabbled madly at the chain around his neck and rolled in an attempt to dislodge McCree’s grip. McCree held on tight, pulling even harder. Tiny’s face mottled deep red and his back arched as he tried to take in air.

The door scraped open and Mori stopped in the doorway, stunned for a moment at the sight of Tiny writhing on the floor, about to pass out. “Shit!” Mori said. He drew McCree’s gun and pointed it at his head. “Let him go!”

Seething, McCree relaxed his hold. Tiny gasped and coughed violently, unlooping the chain and tossing it away as he reeled back to his feet. McCree stayed where he was, kneeling on the concrete, gun at his head, swearing inside. A few more seconds, and he would have had the man unconscious. He could have gotten the key and been away before anyone was the wiser.

“You see?” Mori said. “You see why I lost the asset? This guy won’t quit. And I have to say, never thought I’d see anyone get the better of you, especially someone who’s already chained up.”

“…shut…up…” Tiny rasped. He coughed and hauled himself to his feet. He grabbed the chain and hauled, pulling it through the grate and forcing McCree to stagger forward. He kept reeling in the slack until there was none left. Tiny relocked the chain there, with the cuffs yanked tight against the floor and McCree pulled down onto his knees, no longer able to even stand upright. “Even with omnic restraints, can’t take any chances with you, apparently.”

“Not so clever now, huh?” Mori crouched in front of McCree, getting down to his level, then punched him in the face.

Unable to even raise his arms now to defend himself, McCree took the blow head on. To his credit, he remained on his knees despite the fact that the force of the strike could have sent him reeling. When the ringing in his ears subsided, McCree found that he couldn’t quite open his left eye completely anymore, and the taste of blood settled on his tongue from a new split in his lip.

“Let me have at him, I owe him for earlier,” Mori said. He stalked behind McCree and tore the remainder of McCree’s shirt, exposing his back and shoulders. “Gimme your belt,” he said to Tiny.

Tiny frowned. “If he can’t talk when Lady Shimada comes for interrogation…”

“I’ll make sure he’s conscious,” Mori said. “Just give it to me.”

Tiny unbuckled the belt at his waist. It was thick leather, studded with metal brackets. Mori folded it in half, making sure that the heavy metal buckle and studs faced outwards.

McCree had no idea how long the beating lasted. All he knew was that his back, neck, and shoulders were on fire, his muscles screaming from tension. His jaw ached from biting his tongue, trying not to give his tormentors the satisfaction of crying out from the lashing.

When they finally grew tired of it, they left, slamming the door behind them. Alone in the cellar room, McCree finally allowed himself to collapse.

 

\---

 

He wasn’t quite awake, but he certainly wasn’t having a restful sleep, either. All the physical discomfort lingered – the awkward angle of his shoulders and neck, the bruises across his torso, the cold from the concrete floor seeping into his bones.

McCree shifted, trying to find as relaxed a position as he could, considering the fact that his arms were locked in place and he was half lying on top of a metal grate. At least he was still alone. He had no idea how much time might have passed, but the goons hadn’t returned. He wasn’t sure what they or their ringleader might have planned for him, but whatever it was, it was likely to be unpleasant. He should probably use what time he had to regain some semblance of strength and resolve. But if he couldn’t sleep, he wasn’t sure how to do that.

Hanzo had meditated while he was recovering from the injuries he’d sustained on the island. “Meditation is beneficial to the body and mind,” he’s said, “It will speed the recovery process for me.”

McCree hadn’t tried it before as a healing technique – hell, he hadn’t really tried it much at all, as Hanzo had so bluntly reminded him.  _ No time like the present _ , he reasoned. There was nothing else to do anyway.

He slowed his breathing, kept his eyes closed, and tried to ignore the aches and pains. It seemed to work. The physical discomfort faded ever-so-slightly; not enough to eliminate the pain, but enough to make a slight difference. McCree breathed a little deeper, relieved.

And then, to his great surprise, he found the wolf.

He hadn’t been trying to reach his mythical being, but maybe it just came with the territory. He could practically see the creature, as though it had physical form there in his subconscious. It was sleeping, its massive form curled and its head resting on limbs that were too long and wide to be called legs or paws. Its eye opened and it looked at him.

“ _ Sorry, _ ” McCree said, not sure if he was actually speaking or just thinking out loud. “ _ Not tryin’ to bother you. _ ”

The wolf raised its head and growled a warning.

McCree backed off, and it kept its eyes on him until he was a good distance away. Then it relaxed, dropped its muzzle and returned to sleep.

McCree watched it for a moment. He’d never actually observed the creature before, except during the full moon when it was active and rampaging. It had always been wild and out of control, a force and an instinct that he simply couldn’t stop. It hadn’t occurred to him to think about what it was like during the rest of the month.

Its tail twitched and it let out a snuffle of air through its nose. The motion was so like that a sleeping puppy, dreaming of a chase, that for a moment McCree saw a real animal. One with moods, personality, and emotion, like any living being. He took a step closer.

Its eye cracked open. He halted.

They remained like that for what felt like a long time. McCree, taking a step across a threshold, and the wolf, debating how far he would let that boundary be pushed. Finally, the wolf let its eyelids half close. It remained still, breathing slowly, watching him.

Encouraged, McCree took another step. One slow pace at a time he approached, and he was nearly within arms length of the creature before it raised its head again.

Now it uncurled itself completely, moving into a sitting position. Even when it was not fully standing, McCree had to look up to meet its eye. “ _ Hey there,”  _ he said.

The wolf growled quietly and McCree stopped where he was. Perhaps a show of non-aggression was in order. He wished he had some food for it – treats always worked when training animals.

But then again, this wasn’t a normal animal, and it was probably dangerous to think of it as such. The goal wasn’t to tame it, either, but just to be able to cooperate. Not having any other way to make his intentions known, McCree simply sat down.

Now the positions were reversed. He had made the first move, coming into the wolf’s personal space, and the creature had allowed it to a certain degree. If he waited, perhaps the wolf would decide what the next step was. It could stay and leave them at this stalemate. It could retreat and regain the distance between them. McCree suspected that if it did that, it would be an indication that the wolf had no desire to form a connection, and any progress would be lost. It could attack, and McCree fervently hoped it wouldn’t, because he wasn’t sure what would happen if a person suffered a mauling on a mental level. Or it could do as McCree had done and slowly narrow the distance between them.

McCree spread out his arms, hoping the creature understood universal gestures of good will. “ _I ain’t gonna bite,_ ” he said, not knowing if encouragement would help his position or hinder it. He tapped his knees, as if he were calling to a pet.

The wolf narrowed its eyes.

McCree berated himself. A mythical creature wasn’t a pet. He should have known it was intelligent enough to know when it was being condescended.

“ _ Sorry _ ,” he said. Different approach then. Talk to it as if it were an equal. “ _ Hanzo’s teaching me to meditate, you know. So I’m tryin’ out some of the techniques. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would ya? Tell me if I’m doin’ it right or not? _ ”

The wolf’s head tilted ever-so-slightly sideways. He was thinking about it, McCree marveled. The goddamn wolf was actually thinking about an answer.

Suddenly it padded forward and swung its muzzle into McCree’s chest, knocking him flat. It leaned heavy forearms against his shoulders, pinning him down, and pushed its nose close to his face.

McCree lay still, trying desperately not to let his surprise turn into alarm. The creature could probably sense every aspect of his mood, and he didn’t want it to think that he was afraid, or angry, or upset…nothing negative. He tried again to control his breathing the way Hanzo had taught him.

The wolf snuffed at his hair, rumbled in its throat, and then –  _ then _ – it licked at one of the open wounds on his shoulder.

McCree didn’t do anything for a moment, except to wonder at how the injuries from his physical beating had manifested in a mental exercise. He’d have to ask Hanzo about that later. The wolf scraped its tongue along his ribs. Involuntarily, McCree wriggled. “ _ Hey! Ticklish there, buddy, do you mind? Can I sit up? _ ”

It lifted away from him and McCree pushed himself up on his elbows. 

Patches of its fur were missing, as though they’d been torn out. Curious, McCree glanced at one of the open cuts along his own shoulder, where the wolf sported a matching line of missing fur. “ _ Does it hurt you, too, when I get cut up? _ ”

The wolf snorted.

_ “Is that a yes or a no?” _

The creature spun in a circle, giving McCree a look at its back and sides. Sure enough, though it didn’t show any bloodied or open wounds, its coat was thin and patchy in all the places where McCree had suffered the beating.

“ _ Sorry, _ ” McCree said. “ _ I had no idea. Guess we’ve been in this together to whole time, and we just never knew it. _ ”

The wolf gave a snarl, glaring at him.

“ _ All right, all right, guess I was the one who didn’t know it. But if we’re bein’ fair, you haven’t exactly been friendly or approachable. _ ”

Ears swiveled backwards, laying flat against its head in irritation.

McCree raised his chin, glaring right back. “ _ Hey, I can admit when I’ve been wrong. I’ll take the blame for my part in not tryin’ hard enough, but you gotta man up and take your part for bulldozing over me and ignoring whenever I did try!” _

The wolf turned away, refusing to meet his eye.

“ _ You know exactly what I’m talkin’ about. Full moon? You just run on your rampage and act like I don’t exist.” _

What happened next was something McCree didn’t expect. Images, thoughts, and feelings pummeled him, as well as memories that he hadn’t known he possessed. At least, he thought they were memories. He ran on all fours through woods, pine needles flying under his feet, the scent of leaf and soil thick in his nostrils. He followed the trail of something small and quick, reveling in the chase itself and not caring how it ended. The silver moon was freedom, the ability to stretch and run and not be confined to a dark corner of someone’s mind, always waiting for his turn to have a day in the light.

The memory gave McCree pause. That feeling of confinement was familiar – he lived with it once every month, when the wolf took over. It always left him with a sense of powerlessness. The wolf was in control, and he was forced to wait until its time was over before he could regain his own body and mind. It had never occurred to him that the wolf might experience the same thing during all the other days of the moon cycle, when  _ he _ was fully human and in control. If that was the case, it was no wonder the creature took full advantage of the time it was given.

“ _ All right, I think I’m startin’ to get it,” _ McCree said. “ _ But that’s still no excuse for ignoring me before and bein’ rude. If you’d showed me all this earlier, maybe I would’ve been able to understand quicker.” _

The wolf raised its chin in a gesture that was almost human, and looked down its nose at him.

“ _ I know, I wasn’t perfect either, never claimed I was.  So…can we agree we both try to do a little better?” _

It huffed, but not in a way that was disdainful or aggressive. It relaxed its posture, letting its forelegs stretch out and dropping its belly to the ground, though its head remained upright and its eyes alert.

McCree leaned back on his elbows, watching the wolf’s tail thump. Part of him wanted to reach out and stroke the creature’s fur, but seeing as it had settled several feet away from him still, physical contact might be pushing it a bit. Still, he thought he could say he’d successfully communicated at this point. He tucked his arms behind his head and laid back, enjoying the quiet respite that the meditation was affording him, and wondered if Hanzo would be proud.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, esteemed readers! As always, thank you so much for being a part of this endeavor, and for joining us in a new chapter! Sorry about the rating change, dear friends, you can blame me for that one. (As my younger sister pointed out to me upon reading these chapters, apparently, I go to some dark places when I write fanfiction.) Angst brought to you by NewFallenLeaves, Fluff delivered by Sasskatt. But you can be assured that the fluff is coming! We just have to get dear Jesse out of this predicament first... Join us next weekend for more! 
> 
> \--NewFallenLeaves


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Weekend update, woo-hoo! As always, dearest readers, your kudos and comments are so appreciated, all of you are just the best!! <3

 ------

“Hey, asshole. Wake up.”

The order was punctuated by a kick to his ribs, and McCree gasped in pain, jolted from what little sleep he’d gotten. He tried to roll out of the way of the next kick, but the gauntlets and their shortened chain kept him from getting anywhere. He suffered two more kicks before Tiny grabbed his shoulders and hauled him to his knees.

“The lady of the house is paying you a visit. Don’t slouch.” Tiny gave him a mocking smirk, knowing full well McCree couldn’t sit completely upright.

McCree twisted, glancing around the room. “Where’s your friend?”

Tiny frowned. “Mori’s busy. Shut up and behave, or I’ll make sure you get more of the same from last time.”

A woman strode into the cellar room, her heels clicking delicately on the hard floor. The family resemblance was clear, from the high cheekbones and the delicately pointed chin, to the wisps of gray that streaked her temples. But Hanzo had never mentioned any other family members besides Genji.

“He’s a tricky one, Lady Shimada,” Tiny said, still gripping the back of McCree’s neck. “I can stay with you so he doesn’t try anything.”

“It’ll be fine. Leave me alone with him,” she said.

McCree couldn’t help himself; he laughed. “Honey, you ain’t my type.” He tried to give a smirk, but wound up grimacing instead when Tiny dug his grip into one the gashes on his shoulder.

“You don’t speak that way to the head of the house,” Tiny growled. “You show some respect.”

“If a person wants respect, they gotta earn it,” McCree said. He glared at the woman. “You’re in charge of this place? Then you’re in charge of a bunch of cowards who try to snatch little kids. That’s hardly respectable behavior.”

Tiny hauled back and McCree braced himself for the next blow, but Lady Shimada held up her hand. “I said out,” she commanded.

Tiny obeyed, though he looked loathe to do so. He slammed the door shut behind him, leaving McCree alone with the woman.

“So you’re on board with kidnappin’ and illegal omnic salvage, huh? What kinda sick operation are you runnin’ here, anyway?” McCree asked.

“You answer my questions, not the other way around.” She crouched at his level and held up the necklace. “Where did you get this?”

“Pawn shop. In Timbuktu.”

“You know this is the Shimada crest, don’t you?”

“Huh. Guy who sold it to me said it was kanji for ‘badass.’ Lyin’ scumbag, you can’t trust pawn brokers, am I right?”

“What organization do you work for?”

“Space Cowboys, incorporated.”

She pursed her lips and gave a disapproving stare. “I would suggest you start taking this seriously. If you insist on being difficult, I’ll ensure that your stay here is extremely uncomfortable.”

“Been through a lot worse than this, darlin’, but you can try if you want.”

Her eyes narrowed and she regarded him with quiet disdain for a long moment. Finally she rose to her feet, smoothing the wrinkles on her skirt. She began a slow, deliberate circuit around him, letting the little necklace swing like a pendulum as she walked. “The only people who own these are the clan leaders and their immediate family. For the past several years, two of them have been unaccounted for. That means in order for you to have one, you must have had contact with one of my cousins. So who was it – Genji, or Hanzo?”

“Don’t know anybody by those names.”

“Which one was it?”

“Never met ‘em.”

“Genji. Or Hanzo.”

“You can keep askin’, the answer’s gonna stay the same.”

“If you’re going to waste my time…”

“You’ll do what?” McCree said. “Have your thugs rough me up some more? Go ahead. See where it gets ya.”

She sighed. “I swear, every time I have to waste time with goddamn male bravado…” Crossing to the door, she banged on it. When Tiny inched it open, she said, “Bring a muzzle.”

“Well if you gag me, honey, how’re you gonna get any answers?” McCree asked.

“Doesn’t matter. You’re not planning to give me answers anyway. And I don’t want my men to try and bring you to the breaking point where you actually would.”

“Aw, whyever not? Don’t they like a challenge?”

She thumbed the necklace in her palm. “Because I think if I keep you in good enough health, the person who gave you this might come looking. And then I’ll get my answers from them.”

McCree’s face darkened. “Now hold on, I told you, nobody gave it to me—”

Tiny returned with what looked like some sort of metal breathing mask in his hand, with thick leather straps and buckles attached to its sides. He grabbed McCree by the hair, yanking his head back and jamming the mask over McCree’s nose and mouth. A bar of metal on the inside wedged between his teeth, like a bit, digging into the corners of his mouth, and McCree tasted rust on his tongue. When the straps were tugged and buckled tight behind his head, the hard edges dug deep around his nose and cheeks. Narrow slits in the mouthpiece allowed just enough air through for him to breathe, the scent so metallic that it burned the back of his throat. McCree grunted when Tiny released him, and the sound was hollow.

Lady Shimada brushed a lock of hair off McCree’s forehead. “You got serious pretty quickly with the threat of being used as bait. I take it that you’re trying to protect one of them. That you’d prefer not to involve one of my traitor cousins in this unpleasant business, am I right?”

McCree glared, cursing himself for giving away too much, and cursing her for reading too accurately into it.

“That’s an ill-advised strategy in this house. Things will go better for you if you reconsider.”

McCree thought about Hanzo, and how much he’d had to sacrifice to finally leave the Shimada house. The thought of him being dragged back into that place, especially over a stupid mistake that he’d made, didn’t sit well with McCree. He met her eyes, glaring, giving away nothing.

She draped the necklace over her head and tucked its pendant into her blouse. “The muzzle stays on until he decides to talk to us,” she told Tiny, “Other than that, do what you like so long as he’s conscious when I need him to be.”

 

\------

 

McCree eventually lost count of how many times they tormented him. During the hours when he was finally alone, he barely had the strength to even meditate. And that wasn’t a good sign, since meditation required practically nothing except breathing and keeping his eyes closed.

He was dehydrated and exhausted. The twelve hours that the mission was supposed to have lasted were certainly well past at this point. He had no way to clock the passage of time, but he was willing to bet that it had been close two days. There were moments when the concrete walls around him started to take on a watery, fluid appearance, and he couldn’t tell if it was because he was dizzy from fatigue or from the injuries he’d sustained.

McCree lay facedown on the concrete, trying to find any sort of relief he could. The cold floor numbed the swelling around his eye, that could be counted as a silver lining. What else? His hands weren’t injured, on account of the fact that they were so completely encased in the gauntlets. It meant he would still be able to aim and shoot once he got out, that was a good thing, right? Although, to be realistic, he couldn’t actually feel his forearms – the weight of the omnic restraints had long since cut off the circulation. He tried for the next several minutes to think of more positive angles to the situation, but failed rather miserably.

As he entered the semi-meditative state of mind, the room and the floor and the iron grate and the gauntlets all faded away, but he remained prone and motionless. It probably wasn’t a good sign, McCree reasoned, that he lacked energy even inside his own head.

This time, the wolf came to him.

He didn’t see it approach, but he sensed its energy. It padded towards him, drawing closer until hovered over him, snuffling the back of his head.

_“I’d love to continue our conversation from before,”_  McCree mumbled against the non-existent floor, “ _But I’m kinda  tryin’ to deal with a situation, and it ain’t going so well.”_

The wolf circled and McCree made no move or response, too exhausted to worry about whether or not it was trying to decide how best to take advantage of his weakness.

But it simply completed its circuit three times, and then settled down next to him. It placed its forepaws near his head, and its tail thudded the ground around his feet. When it rested its head over his shoulders, McCree winced, expecting pain. Instead, a warmth radiated from the creature, seeping into him. Slowly the pain and the tiredness ebbed away, replaced by a subtle reserve of strength.

McCree reveled in the newfound relief, stunned at what he was experiencing. He hadn’t even known it was possible for the wolf to share some of its energy. But if this was what it meant to be truly bonded with a mythical creature – to have the ability to bolster one another – then he had to count himself an idiot for not trying to strengthen the bond sooner.

When he woke again in his cellar prison, it was with an astonishing clarity and calm. Much of the physical pain had faded to tolerable levels, the gauntlets didn’t seem quite as heavy, and the edge had been taken off the permeating exhaustion.

_“Thanks, buddy,”_ he thought, hoping the wolf could understand.

 

\----

 

The next time Lady Shimada sauntered into the room, it was in the company of someone McCree was absolutely not pleased to see.

Lady Shimada smiled knowingly as she approached him. “Turns out you’re a more interesting person than I anticipated.”

McCree glowered at the other woman behind her, wishing he could throw a curse and some spit. If she was in their company, of course they knew who he was now…and even worse, they probably knew _what_ he was.

The woman stood tall and stately, her short red hair combed back in a no-nonsense manner. One blue eye gazed from a metal implant set on her skin.

Moira looked him over, taking in the lash wounds across his back, the swelling across his eye, the gauntness that had already started to set in after a few days of no food. She smirked, her tone mocking. “You’re looking well, Jesse.”

McCree growled at the back of his throat, the sound echoing through the muzzle.

“You know, he and Hanzo are the reason I lost half my research and had to relocate to a new facility,” Moira told Lady Shimada.

McCree groaned inwardly. So it had been Moira’s lab that they’d stumbled into. It made perfect sense, and he berated himself for not realizing it sooner. The secret science facility, located so closely to Overwatch headquarters. The files that had included a disturbing amount of information on Overwatch personnel, the terrible experiments on human subjects. It all reeked of Moira, and he should have seen it coming.

Moira carried a small metal case in one hand, which she set on the concrete floor. Popping the latches open, she busied herself with several small implements, snapping small pieces of metal together and twisting the bits until they fit against one another. When it was assembled to her liking, she pinched McCree’s chin. Her long nails dug trenches in his skin as she twisted his head back and forth, looking him over as if he were an animal.

“If I’d known he’d meet your criteria, I wouldn’t have let them damage him quite so much,” Lady Shimada said.

“It’s fine,” Moira said. “That’s only for the ones where I’m trying to fuse a cryptid. Those subjects need to be in prime physical condition to make sure they have a chance of surviving. But Jesse’s already bonded, and this works out nicely. He and I can pick up where we left off last time.”

“But you’ll leave him with me once you’re done,” Lady Shimada said. “My men found him – if he’s to be an asset to anyone, it will be my house. You have your other subjects.”

“And you wouldn’t have any to begin with if it weren’t for me. I can still shut off all the devices, you know, and then you’ll have none.”

“I’ve let you work here unimpeded—”

“And you’ll continue to do so, if you want to retain any assets from our arrangements. I choose which cryptids stay where. This one stays with me.” She turned on McCree with a smile that made his blood run cold. “Besides, little Jesse and I go way back. We’re practically like family.”

McCree breathed heavily, livid that she would even dare to claim that they were family after everything she’d done.

She leaned her chin on her hand, fingers curled delicately. “You’d like to come home with me, wouldn’t you? Gabriel will be glad to see you, I’m sure.”

At the mention of Gabriel, McCree jolted. He gave a guttural snarl, frighteningly loud for someone who was gagged, and lunging despite his restraints. The lock and cuffs clanged against the floor grating, shuddering with the force of his struggle.

Lady Shimada took an involuntary step back, but Moira remained where she was, placid and unperturbed. She kept that infuriating smile on her face, grinning through her pointed teeth. “Defiant as always,” she said, holding up the device between her fingers. “Let’s see if we can finally reign that in, shall we?”

McCree ground his teeth against the metal bit and jerked his head away as she reached for him. He couldn’t pull more than a few inches before the chain went taut. She grabbed a fistful of hair to keep his head still, and pressed the implant against the side of his neck.

It pinched as it attached, and when she released her hold McCree twisted his jaw vigorously against his shoulder, trying vainly to dislodge it. The device clicked, emanating an unpleasant heat against his skin. Familiar energy coursed through McCree’s body. The wolf suddenly came forward, responding to the mythical resonance.

Panic rose in McCree’s gut. It was happening again – just like in the island laboratory, when they’d turned their weapon on him and summoned the wolf. He’s lost himself then, all sense of control and who he was. Desperate, McCree closed his eyes and tried to focus as he had before. “ _Wait!_ ” he called to the wolf.

It heard him, and paused.

“ _This isn’t somethin’ you wanna mess with,_ ” McCree said. “ _It’s bad for both of us._ ”

The sense that he received from the creature was one of simple curiosity.

_“I know it seems like a good deal,”_  McCree said. _“You getting to come out, without havin’ to wait for the full moon and all. But these aren’t good people, and if they want you out, then I figure it’s not for any good reasons.”_

The wolf seemed to mull that over, and McCree could sense its struggle. It so rarely was able to surface, the thought of running free was almost too enticing. Seizing on an argument for his point of view, McCree impressed upon it the tiny cellar room, the heavy chains and the bracers. _“It won’t be like usual. They’re not gonna let you go anywhere, and probably worse, they’ll keep you locked up for good so Moira can run all her damn experiments. Don’t fall for it, whatever they’re trying to call you out for, don’t do it.”_

It growled at him then, turning its head away from him and towards energy from the implant, impatient.  If it wanted to, it could probably still overpower him, and no amount meditation or focus was going to keep it at bay if it didn’t want to be contained.

“ _You can trust me, I promise I’m not lyin’_ ,” McCree told it. _“And I’m not trying to keep you penned up or nothin’, but now’s not the time._ ”

He didn’t want to fight the wolf. He _shouldn’t_ fight it. It was just like Hanzo had said – control was not the end goal, or even the best option. Understanding was.

So McCree stepped back. Just a little, to give the creature enough space to know that he wasn’t trying to stifle it. He let it live beside him for a moment, so it could see for itself what was being done to them, and why.

The wolf stayed where it was, neither moving forward nor back, curious again about McCree’s actions. It huffed, taking in the energy with a different perspective. Apparently, the implant couldn’t control it, either. Not much would be powerful enough to completely control the wolf, probably ever. Not his own mental training, and not all of Moira’s tech. This creature he’d been twinned with was ancient and primal, its soul beyond the reach of mortal consciousness or machinery. If it revealed itself because of the energy from the implant, it was only because it wanted to. And if it obeyed McCree’s wishes to stay hidden, it would be because it chose to.

To McCree’s intense relief, it decided to go with the second option. Perhaps because it was more familiar with him, especially after the past few days. Whatever the reason, it retreated, and curled itself away in a corner of his mind, reluctantly but dutifully returning to its place to wait.

McCree blinked one eye open. The implant glowed and hummed against his skin, but he remained completely, blissfully human.

Moira stared in disbelief.

Lady Shimada folded her arms. “I thought you said he was a cryptid.”

“He is!”

“I’ve invested a lot in this pet project of yours. I’m going to need to start seeing better results than this.”

“Don’t condescend me,” Moira glared dangerously.

“Your experiment with Mori nearly tore apart an entire room of my house, and I still have no assets to show for it." Lady Shimada gestured at McCree. "And now you can’t even bring out his mythic at all?”

Moira yanked the implant off McCree’s neck, ripping skin so that a trail of blood leaked down his neck. “He’ll turn eventually. I just have to find the right frequency. He can’t have lost it, lycanthropy is an incurable condition.”

“Lycan?” Lady Shimada exclaimed. “He’s a goddamn _lycan?_ And you’re trying to turn him while he’s under my roof?”

“Well it’s not working, so I don’t see what you’re so worried about.”

“Lycans are wild! They’re not even controllable by the humans they’re bonded to.”

“When I’m finally through with all this, _no_ manner of cryptid will be beyond my control,” Moira said.

McCree listened to them argue, grateful that for the moment, they seemed to be leaving him alone. With the wolf beside him, too, things in the room seemed different. He could see more detail, catch scents from farther away, and he’d become hyper aware of something deeply wrong, deeply repulsive, about Moira.

She was giving off the stench of something ancient and very powerful. When he reached out to the wolf to see what more he might be able to discover, all he received was an overwhelming sense of absolute hatred. Not only was she an enemy, she was a familiar one – a creature that the wolf knew, and that its kind had been at odds with for centuries.

McCree looked at Moira, suddenly having a new understanding of her pale skin and pointed teeth, her affinity for the dark and abhorrence of sunlight, the way she drained her victims of life and energy in order to sustain herself…McCree wouldn’t be surprised if she could turn into a bat and walk on walls, too.

Moira rolled the bloodied implant between her fingers, eyeing the red stains on her fingers and McCree’s neck with a hungry look he didn’t like. But she turned away, striding for the door. “Give me an hour, then bring him upstairs. We’ll try something else.”

Lady Shimada frowned as she followed. “And if that doesn’t work?”

“It will. One way or another.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Readers may notice a recurring theme in my writing; namely, attractive shirtless men in bondage situations. I refuse to apologize for this. XD  
> \-- NewFallenLeaves


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super excited for this chapter! And as always, a huge thank you to all you readers for the kudos and comments, they are appreciated so, so much!! ^_^

An hour later the storeroom door banged open and Tiny sauntered in to collect McCree.

“I see those wheels turning,” Tiny said, releasing the padlock and reeling in the slack on the chain. He looped it twice around McCree’s neck, tugging it snug. It wasn’t tight enough to choke him, but any extra pull would be enough to cut off his air. “Don’t think about trying anything, I’ll suffocate you until you’re out cold and drag you if I have to.”

McCree seethed. He’d overpowered Tiny once, and it looked like the man wasn’t going to take the risk of letting it happen again. Not having much else of a choice, he followed Tiny out of the cellar room and up towards the main level of the house, feeling foolish and demeaned being tugged along by a leash.

They passed a few other members of the household as they walked, all of them dressed in the same uniform as Tiny, and none of them batting an eye at the sight of a half-naked, bruised and beaten prisoner being led by a chain through their hallways. McCree didn’t like the thought that they might be accustomed to such things, but he couldn’t deny the likelihood of it. From the way Lady Shimada and Moira had been talking, McCree was certainly not the first person to be subjected to Moira’s whims.

Tiny yanked him into through a doorway and into a massive stateroom, and had he been able to, McCree would have sworn.

Moira’s work with the Shimada clan was clearly not casual or fleeting. An entire laboratory had been set up for her, with banks of equipment identical to those that McCree had seen back on the island. Examination tables with restraints lined the walls, surgical and mechanical devices were strewn across work tables, lights and vats and vials and so much more.

Lady Shimada and Moira were arguing as they entered.

“How am I supposed to convince everyone that we are still the dominant house when our assets keep dying?”

“If he couldn’t handle that level of power, he wasn’t a cryptid you wanted to rely on anyway.”

“I don’t have an unlimited supply of mythic-sensitive people for you to burn through!”

“Do you want the control or not? There are going to have to be trials and errors.”

As they continued to bicker, McCree stopped dead in his tracks, catching sight of something he would rather not have seen.

Spread across one of the exam tables was what remained of a human being. He’d been stripped of all clothing, and a wide, octagonal metal device had been attached to his chest. From its center radiated a web of bulging, discolored veins. Half of his body was hideously disfigured – one leg had swelled to three times its normal size, was covered in dark fur, and ended in a massive cloven hoof instead of a human foot. Part of the man’s face was twisted into a bovine appearance, complete with a ram’s horn sprouting from above his temple. The other half of his face, still human, was shockingly recognizable. Mori.

He dangled from the restraints on the table, his jaw slack and his eyes lifeless. Completely immune to the horror of the dead body, Moira stepped up to him and ripped the octagonal device from the center of his chest. It left behind a star-shaped wound, a cluster of deep punctures that seeped blood and gray fluid.

“And furthermore,” Moira continued, pointing a finger at McCree, “With this one being here, I suspect you’re going to have one of your dragons come looking sooner rather than later. So if you want to make sure you can contain it when he finally does show up, you’ll let me finish my work.” She gestured to Tiny with a crook of her finger. “Bring him here.”

McCree wanted no part of it. Whatever progress he might have made with the wolf, and as powerful as the being was, he couldn’t take the risk of pitting it against one of Moira’s schemes. The device was clearly devastating enough to actually kill someone, he didn’t want to think that it might do the same to him.

Digging in his heels, he hauled with all his strength to break free of Tiny’s grip.

The suddenness of it took Tiny by surprise, and the chain slipped from his grasp. McCree bolted, whirling the chain like a weapon and knocking aside one of the henchmen at the doorway. He charged the other one, slamming him aside with a blow to the shoulder, and darted out to the hallway.

In hindsight, it was an ill-conceived act of desperation. He probably wouldn’t have made it far, still chained and gagged as he was and with no knowledge of how to get out of the building. But as it happened, two steps into the hallway was the best he managed to achieve.

A dark swirl of air coalesced in front of him, and Moira took shape from the shadow itself. She gripped his shoulder, and the long tips of her fingernails pricked the back of his neck. “None of that,” she glowered.

The moment she touched him, McCree felt his strength draining away. It was like being siphoned of any willpower, all his energy sapped. His legs buckled under him, and he collapsed to the floor, feeling again all the effects of being starved and beaten. When Tiny hauled him to his feet, he couldn’t remain upright, and had to be dragged back into the lab room.

Tiny dumped him unceremoniously on the floor, and McCree was vaguely aware of Moira hovering over him, prodding his chest. Above him, a little ribbon of light danced across the ceiling, and he thought he must be hallucinating. If that was the case, he might not be conscious for too much longer, and he certainly wouldn’t be able to help his mythical half resist whatever horrors Moira had in store for it. He reached out to the wolf, wondering if warning it would do any good.

_Sorry about this, buddy,_ McCree tried to say. _I don’t know what it’s gonna do to you._

The wolf rose to meet him, and again he felt its massive reserves of power filtering into his own body. His muscles warmed as his blood pounded stronger and his eyesight sprang into focus. Moira held the needle-riddled device in her hand, centering it over his chest. He wondered if he should lash out, and try running again, or if would just be another waste of the wolf’s strength.

“Matriarch?” a nearby goon asked tentatively.

“I’m working.” said Moira.

“But ma’am…”

McCree wondered if the goon trying to get her attention had seen the little ribbon of light, also. It was worming its way towards a beam near the roof, and McCree realized that it wasn’t a hallucination or a ribbon at all – it was a dragon.

Thinner and longer than the dragons he was familiar with, and emitting a green glow rather than blue, it clearly wasn’t Soba or Udon. But there was only one other person he knew who was even associated with such a being, and if he was nearby, then it could mean…

Three shuriken appeared, embedded in Tiny’s arm. An instant later, an arrow with white fletching pierced Moira’s hand. She shrieked, her body breaking into shadows, and the device clattered to the floor. She re-appeared halfway across the room, her teeth gritted with fury, blood dripping from her fingertips.

Another arrow blossomed on the chest of a nearby henchman as Tiny tore one of the shuriken from his arm, hurling it away in fury. Lady Shimada stared at the weapons, eyes wide. “Both of them? Shit.” She snatched a knife from Tiny’s belt, kneeling next to McCree and holding its point to his neck. She shouted for the entire room to hear: “Stop the attack, or I’ll slit his throat!”

_To hell with that_ , McCree thought.

He swung his feet, aiming a kick at Lady Shimada’s head. He caught her full in the face, splitting her lip and cracking a tooth, and prompting a gush of blood from her nose.

She stumbled back, pressing a hand tight against her mouth and nose. A shuriken zipped by, tearing a new line of blood across her shoulder. With a garbled swear, she tossed away the knife and staggered for an exit on the far side of the room.

McCree rolled up to his knees in time to see Hanzo dashing forward from the doorway, arrows flying left and right. Tiny dropped, an arrow in his neck, and a thug behind him screamed as one embedded in his knee.

Hanzo was across the room in an instant, kneeling beside McCree and reaching behind his head to unbuckle the metal gag. When he pulled it free, McCree turned his head and spat blood on the floor. “Goddamn, that thing is uncomfortable. Hanzo, I—”

He found himself silenced once again, this time when Hanzo grasped the back of his neck, pulled him close, and kissed him.

It was a rough and desperate kiss, full of want and relief and so much more, all compressed into a single instant. McCree wanted to lean into it, to drink it in and give it all back and then some. For a moment he very nearly succumbed. But across the room Moira bared her teeth, gathering an ominous cloud of dark energy in her palm. She looked straight at Hanzo, and sighted down her arm.

There was no way to block, so McCree did the only thing he could. Wrenching the heavy gauntlets between them, he shoved hard, breaking away from Hanzo and sending him staggering back, out of harm’s way.

But the strike never came. Moira hollered as Genji leaped from seemingly nowhere, his little green dragon swirling around him as he slashed. Her shot careened harmlessly towards the ceiling and she vanished in a swirl of smoke, re-appearing behind him and reaching with a clawed hand to grasp at his armor. He dashed out of the way, skittering up the wall as if gravity didn’t exist, tossing shuriken until she disappeared again and this time didn’t re-emerge.

McCree glanced back at Hanzo, relieved they hadn’t had to contend with one of Moira’s debilitating attacks. Hanzo stared at him with an expression McCree couldn’t place – but it was gone in the next instant, replaced by the archer’s usual stoic resolve. He sighted an arrow, aiming to McCree’s left, downing a thug before he could draw his weapon. “You’re injured,” he said, bluntly.

“Nothin’ I won’t live through,” McCree said. He sensed movement to his right and swung the gauntlets like a club, knocking another goon out cold.

From the doorway came the staccato sound of gunfire. Genji leaped in front of them, his sword moving at a speed McCree couldn’t track with his eyes. Shots pinged and ricocheted around them, and the hail of gunfire cut off, replaced by shrieks, then silence. “More are probably coming,” Genji warned. “Can you run?”

“My legs are fine,” McCree said.

Hanzo grasped one of the gauntlets, twisting it up and down, looking for the latch. “Where’s the key?”

“No time,” Genji said.

McCree felt silly dashing through the halls alongside Genji and Hanzo. The two of them still had all their armor and weapons, and ran with their quiet agility. Meanwhile he pelted with bare feet, his serape missing and his shirt torn to shreds, his hands and forearms still trapped in the massive restraints. The length of chain dragged behind him, clattering with every step. If the entire house wasn’t already alerted to their presence, they would be soon just due to the noise he was creating.

The two brothers ran in tandem, turning wordlessly and confidently down the winding hallways with familiarity and ease. They even seemed to know which corners would conceal more Shimada thugs, and more often than not were able to stop any attackers before they could even strike.

“He’s not going to be able to climb the walls with us once we’re outside,” Genji said, nodding at McCree’s hands still in cuffs. “We should head for the gate instead.”

Hanzo shook his head. “They’ll expect us to go there.”

“Don’t I get a vote on escaping, too? There’s a tunnel, you know—” McCree cut off as his momentum came to an abrupt halt, the chain catching behind him and yanking taut, wrenching his arms and shoulders and sending him to the floor. He twisted on the ground, looking behind him as he tried to regain the breath that had been knocked out of him.

A massive omnic, similar to the one that had caught him the first time outside the warehouse, lurched in the hallway, the end of the chain clamped in its arms. McCree scrambled back to his feet, pulling against the chain, beating the cuffs against the ground as if it might break them open.

Suddenly Hanzo was next to him, crouched as he sighted down his arrow and loosed it at the monstrosity. It struck the open space between plating and dug into wires, causing sparks. But the omnic appeared unphazed. The sparks diminished and the joint swiveled, closing and repairing itself. A motor whirred, and the mechanical arm started a slow rotation, looping the chain tighter and dragging McCree forward.

McCree struggled against the pull, his feet slipping on the flooring. The omnic leveled a turret and fired straight down the hallway towards them.

Genji leaped in front of him, sword flashing once again. Bullets ricocheted, spraying everywhere. The clip of ammunition in the omnic’s gun ran out – the gunfire paused as it made a transition to reload.

“You two should leave,” McCree grimaced.

“But we just got here,” Genji said.

The omnic dragged him forward another foot, and McCree could feel his strength giving out. Unbidden, the wolf rose alongside him, once again lending its strength and its resolve.

McCree dug his heels in, his feet more solid. The forward motion stopped, and he found himself able to hold his own against the omnic, at least for the time being. But just how far the wolf’s influence would last, he wasn’t sure, unless—

The idea struck him so suddenly he very nearly pitched forward. “Hanzo, Genji, get out of the way.”

Hanzo practically growled at him, loosing arrows in rapid succession. “Don’t be an idiot!”

“Whatever you’re thinkin’, that’s not what I’m askin’!” McCree shouted, exasperated. “Get behind me, I don’t know what’s gonna happen!”

Genji didn’t need to be convinced of anything, and quickly leapt back several paces. His shuriken still worked furiously, zipping past McCree’s ears, but he was out of sight. Hanzo, more stubborn, stayed where he was, glancing at McCree with confusion and concern between every notched arrow.

The chain shuddered, vibrating with the force of the tug-of-war. The omnic opened a new hatch near its shoulder, revealing what looked like a rocket launcher. It clicked into place, taking aim.

McCree took a deep breath and closed his eyes. There was no moonlight, and no mythical resonance from Moira’s infernal devices. The wolf had no avenue to take form or take control…unless there was yet another way for the creature to be able to come forth. If there was enough of a bond, enough trust with its human counterpart, maybe they could somehow create their own path, together.

So he turned to the beast there beside him in his consciousness, and invited it.

The transformation happened almost instantly. The bindings on his arms became impossibly tight as his limbs stretched and swelled. Metal groaned, then broke apart. His vision burned, intense and clear, and the scent of everything around him amplified. Coarse fur rippled across his body, and his teeth ached as the fangs grew into place.

The omnic fired.

A warhead the length of a man’s arm rocketed down the hallway towards them. McCree caught the projectile, clamping it between his claws, then swung his arm and threw it back.

The omnic – and the remainder of the hallway – disappeared in an explosion of light and sound. McCree spun away from it, arcing is body over Hanzo. Heat and debris pummeled his back, but not so intensely that he couldn’t withstand the pain.

He looked down at Hanzo, glad that he could finally protect him, instead of the other way around. Wedged beneath him, cornered against the floor and the wall, Hanzo met his eyes with a look of shock. Quickly McCree backed off, not wanting to terrify him. He was still fully in control – his mind hadn’t been pushed behind to make way for the beast’s usual rampage. But Hanzo wasn’t aware of that. As far as he was knew, McCree might try ripping him apart again.

McCree yelped as a chunk of the ceiling broke and struck him in the back of the neck. The hallway was in flames behind them, and the heat at his back grew more intense as it spread.

“Now would be a very good time to leave,” Genji suggested.

_Thanks_ , McCree told the wolf. _If we get in another pinch, can I ask for your help again?_ The beast huffed at him, but didn’t seem displeased. It withdrew.

McCree’s form shrank, the fur disappearing and his limbs returning to their human state. “Genji’s got the right idea,” he said when he could speak again. “Let’s get goin’.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter updates now, dear readers, as we approach the end of Part II. Little Genji Sister and I need to get Part III ready for posting...
> 
> See you next weekend!! <3
> 
> \-- NewFallenLeaves


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finale Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings, esteemed readers! Here we are at the final chapter of Part II, interludes and Part III coming soon. Thanks so much for reading and commenting and kudo-ing!!
> 
> \-- NewFallenLeaves

 

They had only managed to traverse a few more hallways before Moira reappeared, emerging from a swirl of black to block their path. Her hand was no longer bleeding, the wound already closed up. From the blackness she pulled Lady Shimada into the space alongside her, wrapping her arm around Lady Shimada’s throat and hissing at them, “Stop where you are.”

“Oh, for the love of all that’s unholy.” Lady Shimada spat away a clot from her still-dripping nose. “Moira, you goddamn idiot, they know I can’t be--”

An arrow shaft shuddered into her left eye, and she went completely slack in Moira’s grasp.

McCree stared at Hanzo in shock. The string of his bow hadn’t even stopped quivering before he notched another arrow, this time sighting for Moira’s head. “Was that meant to deter us?” Hanzo growled.

“I will say that I was expecting it to make you hesitate, at least.” Moira released her hold, dropping Lady Shimada unceremoniously to the floor. “You really do hate your entire family, don’t you?”

Genji flourished his blade. “We never get along with Akane, she’s always been kind of bitchy.”

With a rush of air and a swirl of blackness, Moira teleported across the space. McCree dodged sideways instinctively, expecting the feel of her fingernails around his neck at any moment. Instead she coalesced behind Hanzo, her eyes wild and her lone red pupil alight with blood frenzy. She grasped for his neck.

Hanzo spun, but not fast enough. Her fingers grazed his shoulder and his bow arm dropped, suddenly weak.

McCree barreled into her, driving with his shoulder. She broke into shadows before he could slam her against the wall. “Don’t let her touch you!” he shouted.

She reappeared, still next to them, again clawing for Hanzo. He caught her arm in the string of his bow, twisting it to hold her there. He thrust at her head with the heel of his palm, but she vanished into smoke again before he could connect. She solidified a few feet away, an orb of black light already gathering in her palm. She pulsed it down the narrow hallway.

McCree grabbed Hanzo around the waist and dove to the side, flattening them both against the floorboards and out of harm’s way.

The orb rippled towards them, distorting sound and air. McCree shuddered as it passed, feeling the ill effects as it sapped his stamina just by being in close proximity. He didn’t want to imagine what might happen if he, or anyone else, was ever struck full force.

Genji leaped and dashed over the orb, streaking down the hallway with his sword at the ready, slashing for Moira before she could prepare another attack.

She slid nimbly to the side, clamping onto his shoulder. His momentum carried him past her before she could latch on completely, but his movements slowed and he seemed to trip over his own feet, crashing into the far wall with a grunt of pain and confusion.

Hanzo rolled up to his knees, arrow notched, muttering a familiar incantation. His eyes and arm lit with supernatural power.

McCree ducked.

The two blue dragons swirled through the air, straight for Moira and Genji. Moira brought her arms up defensively, crossing them in front of her and holding in place another orb, this one golden. She cried out, her voice mingling with the howls of the dragons, but she stood firm through the onslaught.

Behind her, Genji leapt back to his feet and readied his own stance. As the dragons passed Moira and descended on him, he spun his sword in a rush of green light. His dragon coalesced with Hanzo’s, the three entities merging into a mass of surging energy. They arced harmlessly around Genji’s form, and rounded on Moira for a second time.

Her orb of golden light was almost gone, and this time when the dragons struck her, the shriek that rent the air was one of pain. She shuddered away into her swirl of darkness and suddenly everything – Moira, her black energy, the dragons – all vanished into silence.

A moment ticked by, and Moira didn’t reappear. 

“What happened?” McCree asked. 

“Got rid of her for now, I think,” Hanzo said.

“Are the dragons all right?”

Hanzo tilted his head, in the way that he did whenever he was communicating mentally with Soba and Udon. “The dragons are fine. Whatever dimension Moira moves through, it’s one that they are able to interact with.”

“They could follow her?”

“Yes, but they couldn’t catch her. She’s gone.”

“Good riddance,” McCree stood. “As long as everybody’s okay. Genji, you okay?”

At the other end of the hall, the ninja sheathed his sword and flashed a thumbs- up.

“All-righty then,” McCree leaned against the wall, allowing himself a moment to breathe. “Bad guy gone, all team members present and accounted for. Good mission, everybody.”

From somewhere deep in the house came a rumble, as some part of the structure collapsed and rocked the foundation. A shuddering shockwave filtered through their hallway, making the walls groan and raining dust down on their heads.  McCree winced, thinking about the warhead that he’d thrown and how it was likely the cause. “Sorry about your house, guys.”

“It’s fine,” Genji said. “I always wanted to redecorate.”

 

\---------

 

“You look horrible.”

McCree grimaced. He hadn’t seen himself in a mirror yet, but he was sure Hanzo was right. His eye was still partially swollen closed, jaundiced-looking bruises mottled his ribs and abdomen, the entirety of his back and shoulders stung from the lash wounds, and it seemed like every puncture and scrape opened up again each time he took a deep breath. “Did you need something, Hanzo, or did you just come to make me feel pretty?”

Hanzo averted his gaze.

“You two should stop that, you know,” Genji chided. “Bickering never helps speed recovery.”

Despite all of McCree’s assurances that he was completely fine, neither Genji nor Hanzo seemed to have believed him, and they had rather forcibly taken him to the nearest hospital. McCree didn’t enjoy being fussed over, and the fact that the doctors and nurses had insisted he remain overnight just made him frustrated. He wanted nothing more than for them to be on their way home.

Hanzo sat with his arms still folded and his demeanor still brusque. From time to time he eyed McCree as though he wanted to say something, but always thought better of it.

Hanzo was obviously still pissed, and it all probably stemmed from their initial fight on the skimmer. Everything that had happened after had probably only made everything worse, and McCree couldn’t blame him. Because of him, one of their cousins was dead, a good portion of their family home had been demolished, and the entire team had been put in jeopardy during the fight with Moira. But he almost wished Hanzo would just come out with it and yell at him – call him an idiot, tell him how it was all his fault. Almost anything would be better than the cold treatment.

“I spoke with the doctor on our way in,” Genji said, helpfully filling the uncomfortable silence. “They said they’ll release you in a few hours.”

“That’s good news,” McCree said. “The sooner we get away from Shimadas, the better.” He meant it in the sense that he was sure Hanzo and Genji would both be relieved to be away from their home, and from all the turmoil that it constantly seemed to cause. Hanzo hadn’t wanted to even get as close as they had been on the mission, and with the way everything had gone sour, he was certain both of them felt the same.

But Hanzo’s frown only deepened at the comment, and he stalked from the room without a word.

“Goddamnit,” McCree muttered. “He’s gonna be pissed at me forever.”

Genji tipped his head sideways. “I think he’s just worried about something. Although, it is hard to tell sometimes.”

A nurse poked her head in the doorway, tapping on the jamb. She smiled at the two of them, and spoke rapidly to Genji in Japanese. He gave a short response, and she disappeared.

“What?” McCree asked. “What’d she say?”

“Visitors,” Genji replied.

Not a moment later, a girl came bounding into the room, and she dashed straight up to McCree’s bedside, practically jumping in alongside with him to give him a hug. Even as small and light as she was, she practically knocked the wind out of him with her enthusiasm.

“Ho there,  _ ooof, _ ” McCree huffed, trying not to let on too much how hard she banged into his bruised ribs. “Who’s this little lady?” But the moment he asked the question, he knew what the answer must be. When she turned her smiling face up at him, he recognized her as the little girl from the market that the goon had tried to snatch.

“ _ Arigatou! _ ” she beamed at him.

“Hey, I know that one,” McCree said, easing her into a sitting position beside his knee and ruffling her hair. “Genji, how do I say ‘you’re welcome?’”

Her twin and her mother were only steps behind. “Hayami, come down, he’s recovering.” She hopped off the cot obediently, and her mother addressed McCree directly. “I wanted to thank you for bringing my daughter back to me. She told me what you did, and I was so relieved when your colleagues said they found you.”

“It was nothin’,” McCree said, slightly embarrassed by the praise. “Just glad the little ‘un is all right, that’s what matters. Hey, how’d you all know where to find me here, anyhow?”

“We found them first,” Genji said. “When we were searching for you, there were rumors of a disturbance in the market and from the descriptions we heard, it sounded like you had been involved. We tracked down Hayami and her family, and they helped point us in the right direction.”

Hayami stood close at McCree’s bedside and chattered at him, either oblivious to the fact that he couldn’t understand a word she was saying, or not caring. Oddly, McCree felt the wolf stirring, taking a sudden interest in the situation.

_ Now why’re you comin’ out here? _ McCree asked it silently. 

The wolf remained alert and near the surface of his consciousness, lending McCree a heightened sense of vision and smell, and giving off a portion of the warmth that came with his power and energy. A monitor beside McCree beeped and its pattern sped up as his blood pressure rose and his heart beat a little faster. The pain from his injuries receded, and his muscles tingled as though he wanted to stretch and run. McCree slowed his breathing, sharing his calm in response to the wolf’s energy. 

Genji glanced up from his conversation with Hayami’s mother, but didn’t seem too concerned. McCree supposed he must be sensing the wolf as well.

Genji hadn’t known prior to the mission about McCree’s mythical half, but he’d taken it in stride. The younger Shimada did that with a lot of things, McCree had come to realize. And Genji hadn’t pestered him about it either; McCree wasn’t sure exactly how much he knew, but he was certain that Hanzo had had to reveal some things about it before the two of them infiltrated the Shimada house to rescue him.

Looking again at Hayami, McCree recognized the strange vibe that had called to the wolf. Similar enough to a mythical resonance to make him wonder…

The family didn’t stay for too long. After a short chat, the mother offered again her gratitude and ushered the girls out of the room. Hayami left with a final wave back at McCree. 

“Genji, what was that?” McCree asked.

“You sensed it?”

“I think so.”

“Then you’ve made good progress, based on what Hanzo’s told me. She’s a mythical creature like us – a kitsune.”

“What’s a kitsoon?”

“A fox spirit. Though I’m not sure even she or the rest of her family is aware of it yet. Someday, though, her abilities will manifest and she’ll be able to transform in a way similar to how you do.”

McCree didn’t like the sound of that. “Hope not. Poor kid, are fox demons as bad a wolves?”

“Completely different. Don’t worry.”

“Oh, shit,” McCree said, realizing something. “That’s why they tried to take her in the first place, isn’t it? Moira and her cronies are lookin’ for more mythical people to do their experiments on. Bastards.” He glanced quickly at Genji with an apologetic look. “Sorry. Not your family, I didn’t mean to insult ya.”

“No, no,” Genji laughed, “You got it right, they’re all a bunch of dicks. That’s why we left.”

“I gotta tell ya,” McCree sighed, “Getting used to all this mythic sensing and stuff is a little weird.”

“You seem to have gotten the hang of it pretty quickly,” Genji complimented. “Especially for someone who wasn’t born with the bond.”

“Hanzo told you about all that, huh?”

“Just that you’ve only been bonded with a mythical creature for a few years. But you seem to get along with your creature very well for having such a short period of time with him. It took Hanzo and I years to gain the relationships we have with the dragons.”

“Really?” McCree wasn’t sure why, but he’d assumed that the dragons had always been helpful and attentive, and that Hanzo especially had always been studious and well-versed in how to interact with them.

“Dragons can be fickle. And when they are paired with infants, it can lead to some…interesting situations.”

“Oh, now you gotta tell me.”

“Did Hanzo ever explain the scar on his forearm?”

McCree wracked his brain. There had been an evening – sake and gin involved – where they had traded injury stories. There hadn’t been any scar on Hanzo’s arm that he could recall.

Genji held up his left arm, drawing a semicircle from his wrist halfway to his elbow. “Soba bit him once, right here. It’s probably well covered by the tattoo.”

“Get outta town,” McCree tried to picture the prim and proper Soba snapping at anyone. She was calm and gentle to a fault, barely even taking nips at Udon, despite the fact that he seemed to take irritating her as a personal challenge.

“He was five, and he yanked her tail. It doesn’t sound like much, but dragons are proud creatures who like to hold grudges and don’t forgive easily. He had to work extra hard when he was older to get her to respect him.” 

“Huh. Somebody should explain that to Moira. She mentioned fusing people and controlling mythics…for someone who is one, she doesn’t seem to have much respect for ‘em. Goddamn bloodsucker.”

“Yes,” Genji said, leaning forward. “Her kind are extremely dangerous, and Moira even more so with her scientific knowledge added to her innate abilities.”

“Why?”

“There are many different tiers of mythical beings. Some of them are just naturally more powerful than others, and it creates a clear hierarchy. Vampires have long been one of the most dangerous, not to mention the fact that they’re practically immortal.”

“Huh. What other ones do you have to watch out for?”

“Phoenixes. Demons and angels.” Genji shifted, a smile in his voice. “Dragons.”

“Then I’m sure as hell glad that the dragons I know are on our side,” McCree’s grin faded as he thought of Hanzo and how angry he was, and Genji’s talk about holding grudges. “At least, I  _ hope _ all the dragons I know are still on my side…”

“Don’t worry. The two of you will work it out, I’m sure.”

 

\------

 

But Hanzo spent the entirety of the hospital stay and the trip back home in a sullen mood. Just seeing the dour look on his face made McCree nervous, and he flustered even when trying to make simple, light conversation. All his attempts only led to Hanzo giving him curt nods and more frowns. Finally, he’d given up.

The mission had lasted barely a week, but it felt like ages before McCree finally walked back into their private room and Overwatch headquarters. He belly-flopped on the bed, letting out a muffled sigh of satisfaction. 

Hanzo stood stiffly at the foot of the bed. “Happy to be home?”

“Yessir, please and thank you,” McCree drawled, half rolling onto his side. “Nice not to have to lie on concrete. Or a metal grate.”

“Do you want to sleep for a while? I can leave.”

McCree sighed inwardly. There it was again, the distance between them. It seemed like Hanzo was just looking for an excuse to stay away. He tried not to draw attention to it. “Naw. Got plenty of sleep at the hospital, an’ on the way back. Just want to relax for a bit. Though I suppose I oughta change clothes, been wearing these for a couple days.” McCree kicked off his boots, not bothering to sit up to do so. 

Hanzo hesitated for a moment, then sat down at the foot of the bed, one leg dangling over the edge. He slid the upper portion of his own tunic off, letting the material hang loosely from his waist and exposing his chest, back, and shoulders. 

At first McCree watched him, privately enjoying the sight, just glad that he hadn’t decided to leave. But then Hanzo pulled loose the tie around his hair as well, shaking the strands loose in a manner that he knew McCree liked. “I’ll help you,” he said, abruptly, his fingers reaching deftly to unhook the buttons on McCree’s shirt.

McCree stiffened. After days of barely speaking, now Hanzo suddenly wanted to pretend nothing had happened? It felt unnatural. There was still so much that had gone unresolved – the insensitive things he’d said on the skimmer, how dumb he’d been to get caught by the Matriarch a second time, dragging Hanzo right back to the one place he never wanted to see again, the look on Hanzo’s face when the wolf was revealed and he’d been looming over him, trying to protect. The last time he’d transformed, Hanzo had wound up in the infirmary and McCree couldn’t blame him if he never felt comfortable in the wolf’s presence again. 

Confused by it all, McCree caught Hanzo’s hand to keep him from unbuttoning the rest of the shirt.

Hanzo blinked. “What’s wrong?”

_ Everything,  _ McCree wanted to say. 

“Nothing,” he said. “I’m just tired from the trip, that’s all.” With his other hand he pinched closed the open part of the collar.

There was the matter of the Shimada necklace, too. He’d worn it tucked under his shirt since the moment Hanzo gave it to him. One of the few family items that Hanzo hadn’t renounced, McCree understood how important it was and the amount of trust Hanzo had put in him by letting him keep it. And he’d lost it, permanently.

Hanzo eyed him suspiciously. “Tired?” Placing McCree’s palm on his exposed chest, he pressed forward, but it all seemed forced. “You? Too tired for this?”

Shuddering and flushed, goosebumps prickling all across his neck, McCree wriggled hastily out from underneath Hanzo, stuttering over his own thoughts. “Yeah maybe someother time think I’m still outta sorts and still recovery and all—”

Hanzo grasped his shoulder, and shoved him forcibly back against the headboard. “Jesse James McCree, what the hell is wrong?”

McCree stared wide-eyed, stunned and rapidly growing terrified. If Hanzo had been angry before, he didn’t even want to imagine what could happen if they actually tried to address all the damage he’d caused. He stammered, trying desperately to figure out how to explain himself. “Don’t, I just—” He stopped, alarmed as all the anger suddenly drained form Hanzo’s face and was replaced by fear.

Hanzo clenched at the fabric on McCree’s collar, laying his forehead against McCree’s shoulder. When he spoke, his voice was vulnerable, shuddering. “Jesse…what did they do to you? Please…don’t lie to me, don’t pretend…I…I can’t bear it anymore if you’re angry…just tell me…even if they made you hate me…”

McCree bolted upright, grasping Hanzo by the shoulders. “Is that what you think? That I hate you? Han, never!”

“You said the sooner we get away from the Shimadas the better…” Hanzo shuddered. “I’m one of them, Jesse. And I’m no better…I drove you away, made you go off on your own, nearly got you killed by my own family…”

“None of that was your doin’! Hell, how could you ever think I would blame you for any of that?”

“But, when we finally found you and…I was so relieved, I didn’t think, I just…” Hanzo flushed, and McCree knew exactly what moment he was remembering. “You pushed me away.”

McCree’s jaw dropped. “We were  _ in Moira’s lab, _ gettin’  _ shot at! _ If I hadn’t knocked you back, she coulda killed you!”

Hanzo still looked confused. “Then why...? We’re not in danger anymore, but even right now you seem like you can’t stand to even have me near you—”

“Because everything was my fault!” The dam burst, and suddenly the laundry list of everything wrong came pouring forth. “I was stupid enough to go and get dragged into Shimada headquarters, of all the places, and drag you back through your batshit crazy family and everything you hate. I said stuff I shouldn’t in the skimmer, scared the shit out of you with the wolf, nearly got you killed by goddamn Moira, and on top of all that…I…I lost your necklace!” McCree grasped the half-open edges of his shirt and yanked it apart, popping the remainder of the buttons in the process. He pointed to his bare chest, where the pendant had hung. “See? It’s gone! You trusted me with it and it was barely two days before I lost it. I know how important it was to you, and it was important to me, too, but they took it and I never got it back and I couldn’t tell you before because everything just felt so goddamn awkward and…and…” 

Hanzo blinked, taking in the rush of information, relief washing over his features. “That’s what’s bothering you? A stupid necklace?”

“Well yeah, that, an’ everything else. And it wasn’t stupid! It was one of your family heirlooms, and it was obviously a big deal, and it was a gift from you and it was precious, and if anybody’s gonna hate anybody, I was sure you’d be hatin’ me…for…for bein’ such an ass…”

His sentence trailed away as Hanzo leaned forward, pushing aside the open shirt like a curtain and placing his hand on the exposed abs. Heat from his palm left a trail as Hanzo glided his fingers downward, towards the waistline of McCree’s jeans. The warmth made McCree shudder. Blood suddenly rushed to intimate places, and he had the insatiable desire to be rid of the rest of his clothing as well.

Hanzo’s voice was low, his lips grazing the scruff on McCree’s neck. “I don’t care about the necklace. I care about you.”

McCree ached to believe it, and he struggled to hold back. Every inch of him strained to respond to Hanzo’s touch, to lean back and lose himself in the moment and let it take him somewhere deep and primal and passionate. But it wasn’t right, not when he’d been stupid, endangering not only the entire mission but the one person he cared about more than anything. Hanzo  _ should _ hate him, that was the thing. He’d be well within his rights to be furious with McCree, for everything. “I don’t deserve to be treated so nice, Hanzo…not after what I put you through…”

Hanzo swung his hips over McCree’s, settling his weight in just the right place, and suddenly McCree forgot all about who should be angry with whom, and for what reasons. 

“If I haven’t made myself clear by now….” Hanzo linked both his wrists around the nape of McCree’s neck, whispering close, “You are so much more important to me than any silly trinket.”

“You can have mine,” Genji said cheerfully from the doorway.

Hanzo jolted like lightning and broke away from the embrace as though he’d been burned, suddenly halfway across the room. “Knocking!” he sputtered. “Is a thing! You should be doing!”

“The door wasn’t closed,” Genji said, the mirth in his voice unmistakable. “You should have thought of that before you decided to get half naked.”

“Out,” Hanzo demanded.

“Seriously, I have the same necklace. You remember. Dad gave one to each of us. I can’t wear it anymore, it doesn’t go with any of my armor—”

“Out!” Hanzo roared, practically shoving his younger brother into the hallway. He slammed the door, but it didn’t muffle the sound of Genji’s laughter. Hanzo returned to the bed, face reddened and flustered, all his previous demeanor lost.

McCree looped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him down, trying to remind him of where they’d been a moment ago. He rubbed gently at the back of Hanzo’s neck, trying to relieve a knot of tension, amused at how quickly Genji could get Hanzo bent out of shape. “You really mean what you said?”

“Of course I do,” Hanzo relaxed under his touch. 

“Then I’m sorry I ruined the moment back in the lab,” McCree said. “Havin’ you come in like that, I sure as hell wished I hadn’t had to knock you over. Wanna…have a retry?”

Hanzo didn’t hesitate. Grasping the back of McCree’s neck, twisting strands of ragged brown hair between his fingers, he pulled McCree to him. He traced the scarred line along McCree’s jawline with his tongue, where the muzzle had left a scab mingled with the hairy scruff, until he drew his lips close. With no threat to their lives, no chains holding him down, this time McCree could kiss him back. He fell into it, heat burning a path from where Hanzo’s lips pushed fervently against his, filling his chest and stealing his breath, down to kindle a pulsing fire in his groin.  McCree reached deeper, desperate for more, catching the small of Hanzo’s back in the palm of his hand and curling his fingers into the taut muscles beneath. McCree pulled him tighter, arching his back and deepening the pressure between them, letting the ache build and build. 

But Hanzo broke away suddenly, leaving him gasping. “Promise me,” Hanzo said, resting his forehead against McCree’s, his voice warm and close, “That you’ll stay safe. Stop getting yourself caught on missions.”

“I dunno, I’m thinkin’ maybe I should do it more often,” McCree almost laughed, and couldn’t keep a grin off his face. “Gettin’ rescued seems to lead to some pretty nice stuff…”

He rolled, taking Hanzo with him, tangling their legs and pinning the archer beneath him. This time he was the one to make the claim, to snatch Hanzo’s breath away and hold it until he begged for release. 

Together, they fell into their own private heaven.

\-------

**End Part II**


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Interlude 1, Go! 
> 
> *Shimada sisters desperately prepping for part three*

**Interlude -- Wraith**

 

The three of them stood, a safe distance away, watching from a rooftop. Moira was busying herself with a holographic tablet, swiping through information and formulas, muttering and deliberately ignoring the bustle of activity on the Shimada grounds.

The west wing of the house had burned for several hours. Although the blaze had finally been put out, firemen and emergency workers still trundled through the wreckage. Amelie watched the scene below with more than her usual indifference and apathy. She clicked through her scoping lenses, covering a yawn with her delicate fingers.

Gabriel couldn’t blame her for being bored. He felt the same way. Based on the extent of the damage, the lab had been completely destroyed, so there was nothing left for them to salvage. And Moira had made it clear that she didn’t want them to go searching through the ruins, either. He couldn’t fathom why she was making them wait around.

“Any sign yet?” Moira asked, for what felt like the hundredth time.

“No,” Amelie droned. “It would help if you would tell me exactly what I’m supposed to be looking for.”

“You’ll know it when you see her.”

More long minutes passed. Something on Moira’s tablet gave a disgruntled buzz, and she shut it down with a swear. Glaring down at the still-smoking Shimada mansion, she grumbled, “If she’s keeping me waiting for no good reason--”

“There’s a survivor,” Amelie said abruptly.

“Finally!” Moira said. “Show me.”

“Female. Doesn’t seem to be injured. She’s trying to climb down a stairwell between the second and third floors.” Amelie lifted one of the scoping lenses from her helmet and handed it to Moira, turning her in the right direction. “There. On the other side of the that wall.”

“Excellent. Gabriel? Go and get her, will you?”

Gabriel frowned, though no one would see it behind the mask. “Why? The emergency crews are still here, let them get the other survivors.”

“Don’t question me.” Moira’s voice was terse. “Go get her.”

“You want her dead?” He could do it, easily, but he didn’t relish the thought.

“What? No! Bring her here!”

“Fine.” Setting his focus on an open window that didn’t seem to have too much damage, Gabriel let his solid form slip away. He passed through shadows that didn’t really exist, sliding across the distance, silent and invisible. When he took shape again, he was balanced on the windowsill, looking down a stairwell in part of the house structure that was still standing.

The walls showed charring and the acrid scent of smoke permeated the air. On the landing, a woman was trying to pick her way down the stairs, gingerly stepping on blackened wood to see if it would hold her weight. Her tangled black hair was streaked with gray at the temples, her skin was smeared with soot and blood, and the remains of a sliver of wood jutted from one of her eyes. When Gabriel jumped to land in front of her, she swore.

“Where the hell did you come from?” Lady Shimada demanded.

“Moira wants you,” Gabriel said.

“Oh, does she now? That’s too bad. I don’t really care what Moira wants, so you can tell her she can go fu--”

Gabriel grasped her by the arm and pulled her into shadowform with him. They slipped back across the distance, reappearing on the rooftop. Lady Shimada gasped as they took human shape again, her knees buckling underneath her from the experience.

“Took you long enough,” Moira said. She strode briskly forward, reaching to pluck the remains of the arrow shaft from Lady Shimada’s eye. The sliver ripped free with a squelching sound and brought a dripping portion of gore with it. “I’ve been waiting for hours, what were you doing?”

Clutching a hand to the empty eye socket, Lady Shimada growled through gritted teeth, “You crazy bitch. You used me as a human shield!”

“No, I tried to utilize you as a distraction. If you didn’t have such poor relations with your cousins, it might have worked.”

“You burned down half my house!”

“Again. Your cousin’s fault. Not mine.”

Lady Shimada furrowed her brow, blinking rapidly. Her wound had already stopped weeping blood, and the delicate skin was regenerating. She swiped blood away from the area, glaring now with a newly-healed eye. “Get out. I never want to see you near me or my clan again.”

“Really? I thought you’d want to know what I discovered after fighting with Hanzo and Genji. Oh well. Good luck rebuilding your clan without any dragons.”

“What could you have possibly learned? All your research before this did nothing against them.”

“Of course not. The entire point is to not harm them. If you want a dragon, you’re going to have to keep the host in decent health as well.”

“I know that,” Lady Shimada spat. “But you couldn’t subdue either one, or even slow them down!”

“Well, I’ll admit, I wasn’t quite ready to take on both of them at the same time. But really, it all worked out rather well.”

Lady Shimada gestured drastically at the mansion behind them -- the smoke, the emergency crews, the collapsed structure. “Worked out well?” she screeched. “This is what you count as ‘going well’?”

Moira rolled her eyes. “Rebuilding is a pittance for you, love. What’s most important here is that your cousins stupidly attacked me directly with their mythics. I got dragged firsthand through their alternate plane.”

Gabriel, who had only been half listening to the entire conversation, perked up at the mention of alternate planes of existence. It was mostly common knowledge that cryptids had connections to other realms; mythical beings often possessed magic and secondary forms that weren’t founded in the human world. Gabriel passed through an alternate plane every time he used his shadow step ability, although he couldn’t remain there for very long. But that realm was where the wraith originated from, and where it drew its power. Knowing more about the creature’s origin and power source might give him more of an advantage, or even a way to fight against it.

But Moira wasn’t talking about his mythical creature. She and Lady Shimada were only concerned with the dragons. Gabriel didn’t even know if all mythics stemmed from the same reality, or if there were as many different universes as there were types of creatures.

“So what?” Lady Shimada scoffed. “You got pulled into an alternate realm? What could that have accomplished?”

Moira’s smile widened, the pointed grin of a predator. “It showed me where dragons come from. And now, if you like, we don’t even have to chase your cousins down anymore. Because I know exactly where to go to find another one.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, dearest readers! This fic will not languish or be forgotten! Interlude two, at your service, with Part III on the way.

 

**Interlude -- Dragon and Wolf**

 

McCree lay on his back, enjoying the quiet. Hanzo lay next to him, his head tilted on McCree’s chest, his eyes drifted half shut. Crooking one arm behind his head, McCree let the other curl around Hanzo’s shoulders. The bedsheets bunched around them in a tangle, haphazardly kicked in all directions after their spirited evening of…making up.

Through the window peeked the curved bulb of the moon, barely a sliver missing from its edge. Another night, and it would be full. McCree gazed at it without apprehension for the first time since he’d become bonded with the wolf, wondering what this cycle would be like now that he’d finally been able to communicate with the creature.

Hanzo caught him looking and guessed his thoughts. “Are you going to let me come with you this time?”

McCree shook his head. “Naw. Hey, don’t look at me like that! It’s not for the reason you think.” He let his head drop back on the pillow, trying to figure out how best to explain it. “The full moon is…it’s his time, you know? He’s a powerful thing, and a proud thing, actually, and he’s gotta be able to have some time when he’s in control and nothing’s going to interfere. I can respect that feelin’, you know?”

The tiniest of smiles had worked its way into Hanzo’s features. “So you’ve spoken with him?”

“He doesn’t talk, but he’s actually not that difficult to read – he makes his wants pretty well known.”

“I see.”

There was more than a hint of amusement in Hanzo’s tone of voice, and McCree was suddenly self-conscious. “You’re not laughin’ at me now, are you? I know it’s weird that I started talking to ‘im while I was chained up – it’s a hell of time for something like that to take priority – but I was half passed out, and he…well, he seemed to know I was havin’ trouble and he wanted to help.”

“I’m glad he did. I’ll worry a little less next time, knowing you’re not alone.”

“You were really worried about me?”

“Of course I was! How could I not be? You disappeared after barely half an hour on the ground, and we had no idea where you’d gone. The dragons couldn’t sense you for the longest time, and then when I found out you’d been taken to Hanamura…” Hanzo shuddered. “Perhaps it is selfish of me, but I thought they took you specifically to get to me. I should have never given you the sigil. I never dreamed when I gave it to you that I would be endangering you like that.” 

“Honestly, it’s probably what kept me alive.” McCree twisted strands of Hanzo’s hair absently between his fingers. “They might’ve been ready to shoot me if they hadn’t seen me wearin’ it.”

“Then I’m glad it was good for something, at least.” Hanzo rolled onto his stomach, crossing his elbows underneath his chin. “Usually anything even remotely associated with my family turns into disaster.”

McCree turned on his side, running fingertips up and down Hanzo’s spine and taking pleasure in the sleepy, contented look that it created. “Stop actin’ like your family’s cursed. It was all my own damn fault.”

“It wasn’t.” Hanzo reached for McCree’s hand, running his thumb along the purple bruises peppering McCree’s forearm, left by the oversized and overly-heavy omnic restraints. “I made the mistake of pushing you away, and making you go off alone.”

“Yeah, but if I’d done a better job of it before, the wolf might’ve helped without me havin’ to get pummeled first.”

“Jesse, you talk constantly as if you are somehow less capable than those around you. You’re not. You’re strong, intelligent, loyal, honorable…and I admire you. There are many times when I wish I could be more like you.”

McCree blinked rapidly, bewildered. “What’s to admire? We haven’t gone on a mission together yet where you haven’t had to come runnin’ to dig me outta trouble. Besides, you’re the one with the really powerful beings, plus all the manners and class and refinement—”

Hanzo stopped him with a tap on his lips. “Stop putting me on a pedestal. As if my upbringing makes me somehow superior. It doesn’t. Whatever attributes you think I have, there are plenty more I don’t.” 

“Don’t go puttin’ yourself down on my account.”

“I’m just being realistic. There’s nothing wrong with admitting one’s faults and shortcomings. I don’t have your sense of humor. Your ability to take all things in stride, to relax and not obsess or over analyze to the point of self-loathing.”

“Okay, yeah, you do gotta work on that self-loathing part, you took way too much of the blame on yourself for this last mission.”

Hanzo’s eyes narrowed in feigned annoyance. “After arguing with me at every turn, you don’t have to be so quick to agree on that one.”

“Sorry,” McCree smiled. 

They settled back into quiet, each just content in the company of the other. Finally, Hanzo spoke again. “Would he talk to me?”

“Who?”

“Your wolf.”

“Didn’t you already talk to him before, back in the first lab? When you changed me back.”

“I…ordered him around.”

“Oh. Well, you are good at bein’ in charge. And on top.”

Hanzo slapped at him lightly. “Don’t joke. Now that you’ve communicated with him, I’m genuinely curious. Would he be willing to speak with someone else?”

“Why?”

“I wish to thank him. For keeping you safe, for helping to bring you back home.”

McCree mulled it over. The wolf had been hostile towards Hanzo before, but that was under a stressful situation and long before he’d been able to successfully communicate. Now that they were more in tune with one another, he might be able to introduce Hanzo, in a manner of speaking. Then the wolf could recognize him as a companion and maybe learn to trust Hanzo in the same way.

McCree couldn’t think of any reason why it wouldn’t work. It was probably a good step to take next. “Tell ya what. I’m gonna be spending the next day or so with him anyway. I’ll ask then.”

“Does he have a name?”

It hadn’t occurred to McCree to even think about such a thing, but the instant the idea was placed in his head, he already sensed the answer. It was presented in his thoughts matter-of-factly, as though the wolf had been waiting to tell him, and was only surprised that he hadn’t asked sooner. 

McCree grinned. “Alpha, of course.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you again soon!!
> 
> \-- NewFallenLeaves


End file.
